


Come Find Me

by Quilesca



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Amnesia, Android Cage Matches, Android Steve Harrington, Androids, Awkward Robot Kisses, Brief Claustrophobic tight space, Brief Thriller, Class Differences, Cyberpunk, Cyborg Billy Hargrove, Cyborgs, Dancing, Droids, Dystopia, Horror, Kidnapping, M/M, Memory Loss, Non-Consensual, Outrun, Plot Twists, Robots, Science Fiction, Secrets, Slavery, Slow Dancing, interfacing, minor F/M, monster fighting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:41:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 35,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23855530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quilesca/pseuds/Quilesca
Summary: On a mission for freedom a droid wanders the desolate midwest of north america to complete his final directive. Unfortunately he gets roped into helping a curly head kid and another droid. He soon learns this droid brings out the worst and best out of him and he may be able to achieve his directive sooner than he knows.Or, Billy is a cyborg who thinks he’s an android, Steve is a babysitter droid who’s been abandoned, and Dustin is a kid who ruins everything.UNDERGOING TIDYINGChapters being combined. Comments may be deleted with excess chapters. Sorry in advance.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 23
Kudos: 41





	1. The Hum

**Author's Note:**

> Check out the playlist I made for the story here [Come Find Me (Spotify)](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7tCOj76IirhXn7zWctUpGz?si=S-NPzOQuTDOhnUtAg59PKw)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jump to:  
> > Sequence 01 - Previously 'The Hum'  
> > Sequence 02 - Previously 'The Arm'  
> > Sequence 03 - Previously 'Electric Blue'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor F/M in this chapter, but they're robots.

* * *

## 

CHAPTER ONE  
THE HUM

####  `SEQUENCE 01: PRESENT DAY / EXT. HAWKINS`

The water tower rings under his palm.

Steel rippling like a giant tuning fork.

A deep unending rumble.

Large red cursive is painted across the belly of the tank. It’s rusty and fading.

‘Welcome to Hawkins’

Instead of the chirps of bugs and crickets, the expected stink of cow and manure. All that one can hear in the still suburban landscape is the rusty squeaks and creaks of metal joints.

A figure hobbles. Ratty and dishevelled, their hair stands on end. Dirty blonde curls crinkle stiff from root to tip.

The air is charged. A weather system lingers around him. Angry welts twist and snarl in tumultuous clouds; gaps of reg look ever blinking, ever staring. He charges forward through thick molasses of shifting dust and sizzling dirt.

Zing.

Zap.

They collide like biting gnats on itchy skin and cling like blood suckers.

He scratches.

A bad habit so he cuffs himself with a punishing slap - more painful than he should, but deserving.

The polyester cotton blend is tawny and stiff and he’s scratched a hole in his sleeve. Like clockwork, he pulls out a scrap piece of cloth from his knapsack and ties it securely as a temporary patch. Scrap pieces of cloth and plastic litter his body. Each a reminder of tomorrow’s to-do list.

#̷̢͟͢#̕#̴͘͡͝#̧͏̢#̨͘͟҉̵#̸#̵͠#̴͘#҉͢͟#̷#̵͝#̵#̶̶̢͡#̵͝#̷#̛͡#҉̷#̶̨͘͞͏#̵̢#̴̕#̵̸#̷͢#̸̢#̢̨͘҉#҉̵̨̨#̵̨̡͘#̸̕̕҉#͏̵̨͢#͠#̸͝#̸̢͞͝#̸#̴̨͠#̶̨̨#҉̴

Snaps, crackles and pops, a recording plays plays heavy on his cognizance. Over and over it taunts him. A ticket to free will. Always tomorrow he tells himself, and never today. Always tomorrow. He’ll do it tomorrow. He will come across it and he will know, but right now…

The figure stops.

He stretched arm out scans a short arc, and this time, he’s careful not to tear any more in his sleeve. As expected, the data returns unreadable. It’s gibberish white noise and interference. He’s not expecting data though, hasn’t for a long time. Has been measuring its severity. There used to be patches of information here and there. Intermittent latency he could work with, but now anything was good.

They call it ‘the Hum’.

It’s in the earth, through the concrete, across pipelines.

It’s a constant buzz that has been growing as each day passes, interfering with electronic signals, making it near impossible to reach the mainframe. Making it near impossible for him to complete his mission.

It has grown to a point of physically vibrating the environment and he’s failed every attempt to escape it. It grows faster than he can travel and for all he knows, he could be moving towards the source - whatever it is.

  


Chnk.

  


His head snaps up.

Chnk.

A nearby street lamp cuts off.

  


Chnk.

Chnk.

Chnk.

Chnk.

More follow, one by one, and they cascade down the road. The town’s grid of lights is quickly being replaced with a haze of morning sun.

The figure packs quickly. He needs to seek refuge soon and fast.

Hobbling through and around parked cars, he ambles down the main street with the grace of a one sided, screaky wheelbarrow.

Sunlight breaches over the horizon and chases hot on his tail. The air warms and weighs down suspended droplets into deadly condensation. Sweat drips down his hairline. Anything exposed, once white brick or brand new, have all been encrusted with a crumbled coating of burnt sienna. Anything iron has rusted and breaks brittle between eager fingers.

The figure hesitates, shifting side to side. They spot a broken window and climb through clumsy. Glass shards knock from the alloy frame, scattering across synthetic carpet.

Inside is lined with beige and blocky computers.

Dust speckled sun rays arrive casting long and suffocating beams. They overpower the faint green hue of the cathode ray tubes emanating from the retreating monitors.

He’s come here because there’s power. But first.

Heavy set boots sink in the carpet and make their way to the back seeking cool laminate.

A closet.

The door is jammed. Water damaged, peeling wood veneer.

The handle grinds. Mechanisms inside clink and snap as the handle gives way easily under his strength.

With a tug, large paint chips drop and debris waft into the office and he shoulders in sideways. The door shuts behind him, leaving a slither of light around the door jam.

A rusty hand rifles though the shelves.

  


Junk.

Junk.

Junk.

  


A glove.

A woman’s shawl.

  


Junk.

Junk.

Junk.

Ahah.

  


He carefully works the tip of a can to each of his joints.

Contract and release. Takes a few test steps.

He grunts in approval.

It’s pocketed into his knapsack with anything else of use.

  


Droids are always looking for spare parts. This one was no different, however, no amount of WD-40 can fix a broken arm. It’s damaged and would only be good for a few more months, give or take.

The silicon protective tissue is long gone, a depressive web of cracks and gaps spread along the reinforced armour and ignoring the rust, he’s sure he’s has bent or missing vital components. He removes the glad wrap and dabs carefully at the moisture inside. He’s found a can of compressed air and gives it a few spurts.

The hand clenches and releases, fingers testing their limits.

Motors whir uncomfortably loud and gears with missing teeth catch with clinking and scraping. He grimaces. The fingers twitch as he squeezes it into the glove. It’s a tight fit and not enough of a solution.

Things are different. This is unmistakable fact. Though his memory bank has been scrubbed clean, there are protocols that are inherent in the operating system that prove he can no longer follow normal procedure.

In an event of a necessary repair or replacement, he is to inform his superior, seek attention at a mechanical/engineering bay or place an order for an on site repair. All three options are not applicable.

There are new procedures now. Off the books but the only ones available to him. That is;

Trading with the street gangs. They’ve long overrun the factories and warehouses that sit outside the capital. They’re ferocious, risky and as deadly as fire-ants to an elephant, swallowing whole anything that comes into their midst. He doesn’t have much to trade, and what he can do as a contractor is not something he wants to advertise. Besides, he burnt those bridges long ago.

He could take refuge in the capital, however, experience has told him he’s a wanted man. Droves of men have chased him whenever he’s come close so he avoids the notion completely.

Regardless, it looms like a promise of civilised society and progressive technology. A false promise of a cool breeze he aches to clear his filters with. It hides behind a wall of silver on the horizon. A man made mirage of people’s hopes and dreams. It’s a delusion for any droid to knows better. Returning to the capital means returning to your owner. They, a person or organization, private or public will be responsible for your maintenance and servicing, unless you’re unclaimed, however that wasn’t the only thing they were responsible for.

“Lost and found,” a pleasure bot corrected one night. That is before taking a long drag. She wore make up in protest of her innocent exterior. Dark doe eyes framed in thick black eye shadow. She exhaled coolly, smoke pouring from her lips and she held her cigarette between perfectly manicured fingers. The orange filter was stained with red grease.

“They give you the three ‘R’s. Reduce, Reuse, Recycle,”her eyes hardened on a point on the wall, “Russian roulette. Dismantled, wiped-” he nodded along. That was what probably happened to him; wiped, he barely remembered much, “re-purposed,” she continued, “or wake up fused to someone else,” ahe paused and a terrible grin grew on her face, “Or all of the above.”

She cackled after that, flicking the cigarette and watched the curtains catch fire. There was an oil patch and any attempt to put it out was in vain. Once they were outside, flames flickered in her eyes. “You know, even your owner won’t save you. They’re doing something good - for the environment,” she sing-songed, eyes hollow and black. She began to sing but he couldn’t hear her well over the roaring fire. Couldn’t recognise the tune but it had the makings of an jingle. Something about a buy back scheme or whatnot. They way she sung it was like a sick nursery rhyme of polio.

She kept humming as she walked off like an passing bystander, stepping into another brothel and flicking her ponytail - it was business as usual.

The arson was pinned on him before he escaped. He’d made sure he was far from the outpost before he took a breather.

He doesn’t do pillow talk any more.

The outposts are long gone now, or barely running. Destroyed by warring gangs. Buildings no longer suitable for shelter stick haphazardly out of the sand. Unlucky droids litter the area like rust crumbled spit buckets.

He’s reached a point or distance where the bygone civilization has thinned to farmland and suburbia. It’s safer. More areas for refuge, but less and less resources for a droid. And less droids he can steal arms off.

It’s been at least six months since he’s seen a viable donor droid.

So when he sees it. The first glimps of shiny metal moving in the distance. The glint of moonlight bobbing in the tell tale bounce of a walk, he took it. Despite the dangerous open field, despite the long grass ripe for catching morning dew if the sun roused.

He made the decision.

And it was a shit one. But it was the only one he had in a long, long time and he decided to take it.

  


* * *

####  `SEQUENCE 02: EXT.`

The droid was grateful the the air was thinner tonight. Less itches from phantom gnats. Sparse clouds provide ample moonlight as his prey glints at him with a metal sheen. It cuts in and out of the vegetation like a weaving butterfly and he questions the hours he’s invested following them. He’s been shortening the distance little by little, second guessing his choices as it has taken too long, and in such an open and dangerous space.

The ground is hard and dry, the grass tall and dense. Eventually, his prey makes it’s way to an inner tree line, increasing their own safety. He grits. It has taken too long.

An engine rumbles in the distance and he ducks, losing sight of the droid.

Two specks of beams fly down a nearby highway, moving at break neck speeds. He watches as it the tyres catch and burn, drifting recklessly around a sharp turn. He hears the growl of the engine better as it nears. It’s an exaggerated purr. Pure vibrato faking souped up, silent electric motor, pretending to be something more substantial under a muscle chassis. High beams swoop across the grass and as quickly as it’s come, it leaves. Red tail lights and a cloud of dust.

‘MADMAX’

What a gaudy numberplate. Driving this far out can only mean one thing.

Gang scouts.

What a hoser.

He waits a few beats till its safe and continues silently forwards.

The glint hasn’t returned and he near gives up hope. That is ‘till his sensors picked up movement again, it’s close.

He crouches low and peers through the grass.

There it is.

The droid is sitting against a tree.

It’s shiny and clean. Unusual but he’s not one to complain.

They appear to be in good condition. Both arms have clean and easy movements. Minimal signs of rust. The only problem is the droid in is on the small side.

He clenches his bad hand. This can’t be for nothing. He’ll take the arm and use what he can salvage from it.

Resolute he carefully takes out the shawl from his knapsack and holds it in front of him like a net and slowly approaches the target.

He pauses, biting his tongue.

It’s much too easy.

He scans his surroundings again. The grass sways eerily in the breeze; no other significant movements. No other heat signatures. He shakes his scanner. It’s been wrong before.

He’ll just have to deal with any ambush when it happens. If there is one. If it’s humans, bad. Droids, good. There’ll be more arms to choose from.

His shoe twitches in the dirt.

It’s now or never.

He lunges.

“Agh!”

Fwump.

The droid jerks hard from underneath the shawl as he struggles to encase it, doubling on a dead knot.

“Get Oo-”

He elbows the head hard and covers their mouth.

“Shut it,” he says. His voice surprises himself. It’s weezy and gruff. Husky and out of practice. More metallic than he remembered, but this was no time for evaluations, “ss there anyone else.”

He presses a blade presses into the droid’s arm, getting a leverage between the plating.

“SHIT,” the droid’s voice echoes from within. Hollow and scratchy. Fuck. An internal speaker.

They jerk more furiously and he uses both hands to steady the cut. He doesn’t want to damage anything he needs.

Come- on, quick. Precise.

“No, stop! Listen! I’m no-”

Shhk.

All of a sudden the shoulder falls away, the droids body swells beneath him and metal is clacking and clanging.

His processor whirs heavy in alarm unable to process what he’s seeing.

He holds the shawl tighter in an effort to dampen the noise.

Too much noise… TOo much noise!

It’s undulating, wriggling, alive.

All of a sudden, the droid bursts.

An exoskeleton prying open.

Metal shells kick off left and right and an animal escapes from under him.

It’s a boy.

It’s a kid.

Medium stocky build, sweaty helmet hair. Curly and too big.

Stubby fingers are held out spread wide in a poor attempt of defence.

“Stop! I’m a human, not a droid,” tears are bubbling at his eyes. Nose snotty. There's a lisp and missing front teeth, “You need a new arm right? I can fix it, I can fix it! Please don’t kill me!”

All at once, shadows shot out from around them.

Shit.

Fucking humans.

He jumps back into the grass, getting low and moving fast and silent. He can hear a rustle of someone on his six.

He makes it to an area where the grass is long and deep. He quickly ducks under a steep crest waiting for his pursuer. He clips them just in time, tripping them with a swipe at their ankles.

Human.

They will always have the upper hand.

Four weapons; two knives, two guns.

Disarm and remove from danger. The air is danger. Humans need air pipes to breathe. He locates the pressure point in a wrestling manoeuvre and knocks them out. He can’t stay here too long and he’s not dead-dead at least, but he’s human and completely useless to him.

He returns slowly to observe the tree-line.

There’s laughing.

Slim pickings he notices. Two more humans but there’s at least one other droid, this time the size is right.

“Get off me!”

The kid is struggling in the grip of a large man. They’re rogue scavengers he confirms. He doesn’t recognise the gang symbol they’re wearing, but there must be a vehicle nearby - good to know.

“Let me go!” Kicks the kid. He’s got more balls his time around, aiming for the man’s crotch and he’s dropped as the man groans curling into himself.

The boy gets a gun pointed at him for his efforts.

“What’s a kid doing out here so far away from the city? Hm?”

The droid is looking through a bag and pockets some of the items they find.

“Hey, that’s mine, give it back!”

They laugh and the droid continues on their pilfering.

The groaning human propped himself on his knees and squints.

“O’Reilly!” he shouts, “Ya kill it yet?!”

The field responds only with the rustling breeze.

The man with the gum nods, tilting his head firmly. “Go check on him. I think it was a soldier droid. Could have got him good.”

“Like hell I am. Soldier?! He’s good as dead. Hey droid, do you like O’Reilly? I don’t like O’Reilly.” The droid shrugs. “Come on, we’ve got a lil’ pet for boss already, lets go.”

“No. The boss likes soldiers. Go get it.”

“But,” the groaner leans back, paunch hanging out. “Fine.”

“Take the droid with you. It can’t have gone far.”

The man adjusts his weapon and makes sure it wasn’t pulling his belt and pants down. One could imagine his crack was tanned from the sunshine.

“So, kid,” the gun clicks, “what’re yer good for?”

He watches the fat man wade into the grass followed by the droid. He’s lucky they didn’t spot him. The short glimpse of the bag the droid was rifling through confirmed to him that they were repair equipment and he’s taken all the good stuff already. So the kid wasn’t lying.

However, the droid had a working arm anyway. That was all he needed.

  


* * *

  


Dustin was sweating like a cornered nun. He’d read it in a book once and hadn’t been able to use it since. Just wished it wasn’t about himself.

He put his hands up and did as he was told, following the directions at gunpoint.

Despite his immediate future, he was more disappointed he was nowhere near finding his friends, and he’d barely made it past his old middle school before being discovered. He swore he turned on his signal jammer.

“What was that?” The ugly man with the wire thin beard said.

“Nothin’.”

He was pushed up a bare boned jeep and cuffed to a bar.

The man turned and surveyed the field, “Oi Mick. Droid! ‘Urry Up Will ya!”

He pulled out a large machine gun from the passenger side and perched under his arm.

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

He disappeared into the grass just like the others and Dustin was alone, in an empty jeep without his tools. He scrounged around for wires or something to do. Perhaps he could find something to pick the hand cuffs.

He shivered. It was starting to get cold.

Not good.

The temperature usually dropped before the sun rose.

There was footsteps returning rustling through the vegetation and he sat up, hiding his hands to avoid suspicion.

Gun shots rang out.

Bang. Bang.

Then a peppering of a machine gun. He could see the flashes of light in the darkness.

Suddenly there was a loud bang, the jeep lurching to and fro.

His ears were ringing and he could feel someone dragging him out into the grass. All he could do was follow his instinct by kicking and punching the hand that was on him.

“I said - SHut It.”

It was the one who got the drop on him. The one that looked like a soldier droid. He had a vice like grip on him and they were now running through the field. On his shoulder was something large, metal and deadly, but barely looked like the machine gun.

“What on earth is that?!”

The droid turned around, pushing him behind some bushes.

“An arm,” he dropped it with a thunk, “You said you can fix it.”

“I - I did. But not without my tools.”

“I’ve got tools.”

“But they’re not-”

Running footsteps started towards them.

“Omg, why haven’t you killed them. You’re a soldier aren’t you.”

The droid poked the boy’s chest and stooped low to get eye level, “I am, and it’s not - simple. Don’t make me change my mind about you.”

  


* * *

  


His CPU was clocking overtime.

Today felt like he’d chipped in all his rotten luck at once.

He’s got the arm, but now he had to get out with it. Who would have thought the fat one was the most nimble of the bunch. Managed to get the soldier in a choke hold while twisting his bad arm. It’s broke now so it’s all or nothin’.

And saving the boy now meant keeping him alive. He’d stashed him with his prized arm on the edge of the field. Here’s hoping he’ll still be there when he gets back. He should have left the kid with them in the first place. Probably would have been safer with them. 

“Look what I have, soldier.”

The floodlights bloomed around him.

Fatty let out a hacking laugh as he plowed towards him.

  


* * *

  


Psst.

The droid had been on a rampage, trying to escape the lunatic. He’d manage to hide out amoung the vegetation and move around to avoid the jeep. In the process, he’d managed to permanently take down the other droid. The sun was coming soon. His sensors alerted him as the temperature plummeted as a spike.

He grimaced fatty drove do-nuts on the field, flattening the grass.

Psst!!!

A head of curls popped up beside him.

“Hey.”

"Shhh..." he clasps his good hand over the boys mouth, but the kid is gesturing something crazy. He rolls his eyes and lets go.

“Look.”

His eyes followed the direction to something concrete built beneath the ground.

A trap door.

  


* * *

####  `SEQUENCE 03: INT.`

The boy and the droid climbed down a narrow shaft and the hum cuts out as the trap door shuts behind them. The shaft leads them deep underground, and the silence grows near deafening. Well, almost deafening to the constant presence the hum had accustomed them to.

The soldier’s sensors picks up a unexpected change in air pressure and they climbing past a ventilation duct. 

Sensors are reading a controlled environment at a steady 25 Degrees Celsius.

The shaft opened up to an underground maze. Untouched smooth panel walls meet clean shiny flooring. Clean - other than dirt tracked from the kid’s shoes.

“Isn’t this amazing?! Check this out!”

The droid freezes as the kid’s shout echoes down the hall. He looks up waiting for their position to be blown but nothing happens. He throws the kid a glare and presses a finger to his lips.

“Sorry,” he whispers back, but runs carelessly to a nearby door and slaps a panel on the side.

The door slides open and they’re met with a plush living room. There’s a kitchenette and dining on the left and doors that lead to bedrooms and amenities at the back.

“This must be one of the new settlements. Right here in Indiana? Who’da thought? And look,” He points to plates of black mould growing on a dining table.

“They must have left in a rush. Looks like one of those underground bunkers made for the rich. That's usually something you see in movies, eh?”

Dirty fingers flick lights on and off as they move from room to room. The kid is mouthy. Has something to say about everything.

“This complex is massive. That’s why nothing grows here. Or Up there. Nothing tall like trees that is. Not enough space for the roots to take,” he takes a few corners at a brisk pace,” Except for you know. There must be two neighbouring complexes. You know that line of taller trees in the middle. I bet the ground is deep enough for rootsto grow there, so splitting the complex in half. These are educated guesses of course. Hypotheses. And the spaces in between the trees. I bet there are bridges underground connecting the two complexes. Oh, that means, we can travel along and to the otherside without being seen!”

The droid followed at his own pace, making his own observations. He had to admit, those were a big conclusions to jump to the kid wasn’t wrong yet.

They find at least a dozen more living units like the first. He tallied a significant amount of single, and family sizes. Each home had their own amenities, smaller versions of communal areas. A lot of repetition. A lot of waste; a mess hall, an industrial kitchen, a gym and pool and an empty greenhouse. It’s not a military base, but a civilian settlement he confirmed.

In this climate, this was sort after real estate, but it was eerily empty, and eerily quiet.

He scanned the surroundings, the data was loud and clear, but didn’t ping far. It had it’s own intranet, but that was it.

“Hey, look at this!”

The soldier winced, it was a particularly loud outburst almost directly into his receiver.

“There’s more stuff this way!”

The kid ran off again and the soldier looked back. He needed a break.

The pitter patter of feet disappeared as the soldier stealthily strolled back to the living units. There was a door at the very end and he willed that it would buy him enough rest time away from the child.

Unlike the others, this home seemed too clean. Where the others had at least had signs of settling in, belongings hung up or put away, this one was as crisp and empty as a display home. He felt grimy standing here and scraped the bottom of his shoes on the doormat.

There was a power socket in the living room and he sat down in the darkness and opened his panel without issue. No rust- good. A green light turned on as expected and he started charging. He steadfastly ignored the red battery light blinking at him accusingly; he’ll need to replace that soon.

He rests, booting down on stand by.

The sound of the kid running around and flicking switches was growing louder and louder. He registers an ambient buzz of electricity coming to life with a high pitched tone. There’s static in the air again. He can feel it hot on his cheek.

‘The hum?’ he wonders.

He opens his eyes and is met with an electric blue glow that he’s certain wasn’t there before. It frames a door, slightly ajar. He can feel it. The buzz is coming from there.

Tense and on edge, he unplugs slow and steady and creeps towards the glow. He extracts his knife ready and waiting.

He gives the door a short hard tap and it swings open.

He freezes.

It’s a person.

Standing in neutral, eyes closed, their lashes casting sharp shadows.

They’re resting in a charging station bathed in electric blue.

Not a person. A droid.

The outfit is as preppy and clean pressed.

Nice shirt. Or clean. It’s synonymous by now. Perhaps he would find a nice shirt floating around here too.

Heat sensors pick up the the charging station is running 142% hotter than recommended. This droid has been charging for too long to be requiring that much power, so there’s a high chance their battery is dead or near dead.

Not a threat he determines. The knife retreats back into its holster.

He examines closer. He has to raise his chin to look at the guy properly. Tall, he begrudgingly admits.

They’re in good condition. More than good. Brand new. Nice to see that natural skin technology up close. Plump lips, textured skin, full eyebrows and big hair. No marks or scratches. Nothing's missing. It’s not like he’s jealous.

His eyes raked over the possible functions it could have but he couldn't place what kind of model it was. May have come part and parcel with the place, being futuristic and all.

Jeez louise. With all those odd moles dotting here and there, the thing could basically pass off as human. The only thing giving away was the fact that it was sitting in a charging station.

The soldier’s eyes flick to their arms and his tongue suddenly felt too big for his mouth. His stomach too big for his eyes. He could do a lot more with arms like that. Could do a lot more with a body like that. Legs too. Long lean. Looked strong. His fingers twitched.

His eyes flick back up to the face, shifting closer for a better look. Something unfamiliar and uneasy twisted inside him. A feeling he’s had once before. An ache, a need. The word pretty sits on his tongue.

“OH - MY - GOD!”

The kid barrels into him and he’s pushed aside.

“Another droid! What the. What. What is he? You think there’s more?”

[](https://i.ibb.co/mq6R7WT/Come-Find-Me-incomplete.jpg)  


  


The kid trails off searching the machine and mumbling to himself. He’s pressing random buttons and flipping switches.

“Hey, hey. It’s hot.”

“Ouch!”

The soldier snarls at the kids incompetence. 

The machine hums and hurrs, indicator lights flashing in an array of different warnings. Blinking and smoking from the random commands. The kid flicks through a stack of paper searching for a manual.

Before he can say ‘stop’, the kid’s already punching a big red button.

A short 8-bit melodic tune chirps and the droid opens their eyes.

Large, dark and vacant, except for the sharp blue lighting.

They hit him something familiar and haunted. Memories of fire and fear. All thoughts of scavenging parts from the droid are forgotten.

“Awesome. Um -” the kid wipes his hand before holding it out, “Hi, my name’s Dustin Henderson. What’s yours?”

The droid stares blankly. There’s sounds of buzzing and clicking, like a hardrive running against years of dust. False muscles and tendons contract minutely under the surface of their skin as they boot up.

Life slowly enters the eyes and they’re greeted with a wide, goofy smile. A hand shoots out and meets the kid’s with a sure and firm shake.

“Hey Dustin. My name’s STEVE. Model PFCG-BB013. Great to meet you!”

Steve’s hair bounces as he talks.

“Oh wow! Did you hear that?” the kid beams at the soldier, “he sounds so human, say something else.”

The droid, Steve, smiles, eyes wide at the soldier and lingers a little too long.

“Sure,” he blinks, “What should I say?”

“Oh my god. Yeah no. That was amazing. Yeah, wow, you’re so, like, normal.”

Steve beams back, “Well, thanks dude.”

“Ha, dude. Oh yeah, this is my friend. He’s a soldier. We just met.”

He bristles when the kid says friend, but the curly head turns to him in contemplation.

“Sorry, uhhh, I don’t know your name?”

All eyes turn to the soldier.

...

“... Model SRP-059T.”

“Is that it? Uhhkay...” the kid pats him on the shoulder, “we’ll find you a name.”

Steve smiles. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you Model SRP-059T.”

“What’s your directive?”

The soldier stiffens at the question, eyes snapping towards the voice.

It was the kid, but he’s asking Steve.

Steve props his hands on his hips and beams, glowing from the attention.

“Directive: Big Brother for the Harrington Family. I nourish and further the development of infants to adolescents. I focus in the fields of health, safety, education, ethics and sports. I have also been installed an advanced protection protocol.”

This is either some weird rich family’s bespoke droid or a new type of babysitter they have for the upper class. He’s seen them around. They’re generally female presenting. Robot au pairs with “dual” functions. Nanny’s kids during the day and provide aftercare for the parents - after hours.

“Cool. I’ve never seen one before.”

“Hey,” the droid shot up onto his toes with excitement, “You want to play basketball?”

“There’s basketball?!”


	2. The Droid in the Bunker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jump to:  
> > Sequence 04 - Previously 'Basketball?!' & 'Billy Beans'  
> > Sequence 05 - Previously 'Frend or Foe'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning and tag update: Horror, Thriller, Claustrophobic tight spaces.

## 

CHAPTER TWO  
THE DROID IN THE BUNKER

####  `SEQUENCE 04: INT. THE BUNKER`

Steve skipped them through the complex, taking shortcuts through communal areas like a tour. Many of which, Dustin had already briefly explored. Eventually they made a race out of it.

They arrived at a large hall with shiny timber flooring. Lines of different colours marked across, with a distinctive large whtie rectangle.

“Basketball!” Dustin exclaimed.

Steve’s sneakers squeaked when he skidded to a stop.

“Wow, this is massive!” Dustin’s voice echoed back from the high ceiling.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” said Steve.

Steve retrieved some orange balls from a connecting store room and the soldier took to sitting on the bleachers to watch.

It was evident Dustin wasn’t the greatest at basketball. He had a heavy hand punching with the flat of his palm negating any energy the ball had on the way up.

“I know what it is,” he said petulant. True to his nature, Steve was kind and encouraging. Making games out of dribbling and shooting hoops.

“Ugh, this is boring. I wanna do something cooler. Like, can I bounce the ball under your leg?”

“You sure can,” Steve said.

Dustin did so. It fumbled out of his grasp at least once before he got it right.

“Getting the hang of it dude. Hey, check out this lay up.”

“Ok.”

“But first, I’m going to steal your ball.”

“Wha?”

The droid got close and personal with the boy. He side stepped, tapped the ball out of his hands and spun away and a fluid motion.

Dustin was stock still as he watched the ball bounced through his legs, meeting Steve on the other side who dribbled it away. He made two jumps, one on one foot then switched to the left and jumped real high. So much so he was basically at the hoop. With one long arm, the ball hit the back of the board and shot home.

“Fuck me...”

“Language,” Steve said sauntering back, pushing his hair out of his face.

“But I said ‘hell’ earlier.”

“Eh, that’s where my settings are. You’re what, fourteen?”

“Eighteen—-?”

Steve snorted but ruffled his hair.

“Hey,” Dustin pushed his hand of his head.

“I can make it more strict if you want.”

“No, no, this is good.”

“Come on, lets play.”

They had a few rounds, Steve showing how to steal a ball, how to spin and dodge to protect it and how to improve his dribbling. They both took turns, in stealing that is; Steve was being quite generous. Dustin was sweating up a storm being human and all. His brown curls stuck to his forehead and dark patches grew large under his pits.

Dustin was getting tired, slipping all over the polished floor.

He saw an opening.

This is it.

He swiped the ball, side stepped, this time, faked right just as Steve once did. Steve tripped and his confidence did a little swoop.

Dustin found himself right where he should be, under the hoop and no one to stop him. A straight shot.

“Come on, you can do this,” Dustin said to himself.

He jumped and the ball left his hands.

It arched in the air, hit the hoop, bounced, skimmed the ring, once, twice.

Goal.

“Yes!” He threw his arms in the air. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Did you see that?”

There was no response.

“Steve?”

Dustin turned around.

“Oh shit.”

Steve had collapsed on the floor, unmoving.

He poked him a few times, shook his shoulders but he was unresponsive.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. I broke him.”

The soldier stepped down the bleachers.

“What do I do? What did I do?!”

The soldier shrugged. “His battery capacity is shot.”

“Oh, huh? Of course.” He scratched his chin. “Lets take him to the engineering bay. Ooh, I checked it earlier. I can fix your arm. Forgot about that.”

Breathing in, the boy grabbed Steve’s legs, hitched then under his armpits, then started dragging him backwards towards the door.

“They have everything there. I can also make my own tool kit. I don’t need to go back for my stuff anymore. There’s also a printing terminal. I’d love to know how to use one.”

Dustin was progressively becoming more and more hunched.

“Son of a bitch,” he dropped the legs, rubber sneakers bouncing. “Come on man, I’m doing all the work here.”

  


* * *

  


The engineering bay was further than expected, that is with the constant chatter and all. Won’t stop yabbering on about electronics, heat signatures, jamming signals, finding his friends, why he was dressed as a droid when they first met. Gave me such a fright. As if earlier today was a past time anecdote.

Also, it was of great importance that the soldier should know that he was very hungry. Like right now.

“-like pudding but also parmigiana. You know? Cheese, tomato, deep fried chicken. The works and chocolate. But not together. Like I’m so hungry I want to eat my meal and desert at the same time but distinctly separate. But not a TV dinner. How about a hot dog stand in an ice-cream parlour. It’s about options am I right?”

He tuned out. Choosing to instead focus on the comfortable weight in his arms. Steve. He was too perfect for his own good. Couldn’t imagine such of a droid surving top side. Look at those perfect eyebrows, perfect skin. Porcelain perfect skin. Would disintegrate in a second. Although, he could pass-

Something evil popped into his mind. He had a habit turning the most mundane of objects into deadly weapons. For example, if he spun just right, those gangly long legs were at the right hight and reach to wack the kid in the back of the head.

“Ow! Hey.”

He shrugged. It was an accident.

Dustin stomped towards a set of double doors and glanced back with a distrustful side eye.

“Ok, we’re here.”

Fluorescent lights blinked on revealing a large room full of machinery, tall shelving, and cabinets. He laid the droid across a metal work bench.

“Ok, batteries, batteries, batteries...” the kid muttered at the foot of a metal shelving unit. “Right, I need to see which one Steve has. Dude, help. Flip him around? No wait, lift his arm.”

The soldier grunted, but did as he was told. Dustin pulled up the shirt and whistled, motioned him to hold that too and ducked out. He made a lot of ruckus and returned with a handful of tools.

“You ready?”

Did he have a choice?

He used his bare hands to push and prod around the firm silicone skin. The soldier frowned. Something about it agitated him, but he wasn’t sure what.

“Steve’s made from some good shit,” said Dustin.

After a bit more prodding, they heard a faint click as he found a button. A green light appeared and a seamless panel swung open. Inside was state of the art. Unblemished tubings, soft plastic circuitry. Any metal there was had a sheen. The kid puttered around the shelves and returned with the correct battery. Watching him was like watching a surgeon in his element. The battery swap took only a moment and Steve was plugged into a socket and charging. Now all they had to do was wait.

“Ok, your turn.”

The soldier stopped him.

“I can do it myself,” he grunted.

“Not with that arm you can’t.”

“Where’s the one I got you earlier.” He prodded Steve’s.

“Well, I. You’re NOT taking his. Now sit.”

So he did. But the kid poked and prodded the wrong side, being too invasive for his own good.

“You need a new battery too. I’m gonna charge your new battery first while I work on your arm, and then we’ll do a swaparoo ‘right?”

The soldier grunted and Dustin accepted that as enough of a affirmation.

It was halfway through the arm that the droid next to them started to wake.

The tell tale boot up song chirped away with the buzzing, whirring of a processor. It took a much shorter time than earlier. Steve sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bench, inspecting his condition. He stretched his arms and back as if he was in between warm ups.

“Man, that feels good. Thanks for the new battery Dustin.”

“You’re welcome,” Dustin said, still focused on the arm. He lifted his head and smiled. “Then we can play more basketball in the future then. Also, before I forget, you’ve got to charge at your station fully tonight but no more once it’s full. It’s what it says on the manual, but no one follows it.”

“Sure thing trooper. Watcha up to?” Steve leaned over and peered into the cavity in the soldier’s arm. It was twisted in metal wires and plates. “Wow, you’re quite the engineer aren’t ya.”

Dustin beamed, “Yeah, it took a while to figure it out. But basically a bullet came through here, and what, later a large hammer...”

“War hammer.” The soldier supplied.

“Or so he says. Bent all this, so it’s pushing on all these wire tendons which need replacements because they’ve been scraping along the edge. And they’re all rusty,” he points, “here. So without me, it wasn’t gonna last any more than a few weeks.”

“I gotta say, pretty impressive there little guy. I think I wanna to hear more of this. Whaddya say about telling me all about it over some dinner? I heard a certain someone was hungry and was hankering for something... sweet and savoury?”

Dustin lit up and was ready get up and go.

“Bup, bup, bup, bup,” Steve held out a pointed finger. “You stay right here and finish up with your project and I’ll go whip up something and let you know when it’s ready.”

Steve winked then hopped off the table. Before they knew it, he was off.

“Awesome, isn’t Steve’s the best.”

  


* * *

  


Later on they were in the mess hall. Steve had a hot meal ready and waiting. Mainly legumes, rice and gravy. Probably tinned. Dustin had washed the black grease from hands with Steve by his side.

“I know how to wash my hands, Steve.” Apparently, there were different techniques, to which Dustin internally grumbled because the most comprehensive way was taking too long.

The other complaint was that the ‘something sweet’ that was promised was only allowed after dinner which was not a stipulated requirement. “Well yeah, that’s what dessert is,” Steve had said.

“I’ve started a few seedlings too. I’m hoping the tomatoes would sprout sooner than seven days. And garlic. You gotta have garlic. I can show you how to plant one tomorrow if you’d like?”

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.” Dustin yawned poking at his food. Despite his enthusiasm, his eyes were drooping. His stomach was full and was telling him it was time to sleep. But damn, he was going to fight his way to through the chocolate pudding if it was the last thing on earth.

Dustin leaned on one hand, elbow on the table and pointed his chocolate covered spoon towards the soldier.

“We...” he slurred, “still need figure out a name for you. I don’t want to keep referring to you as a soldier, or Model... Model SRP-05 something, something.”

Steve pushed a curl out of Dustin’s face and tucked it behind his ear.

“-9T?” he supplied.

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

Steve was mimicking Dustin’s mannerisms beat for beat. A droid shouldn’t be tired; not one that’s been recently charged. Slow blinks and sleepy smiles. Dustin yawned again, tenfold.

“Soldiers don’t have names,” grunted the soldier.

Dustin jerked up, ready for an argument, and Steve gave them both an admonishing glare.

“We should name you Kevin,” Dustin’s eyes bugged crazy, “or Percy. No that name is for a pigeon. Percy the Pigeon.”

Dustin broke out in a manic laugh and Steve joined in with a much slower and sleepy giggle. Dustin tapered off again. That earned the kid a little shoulder squeeze.

“Hey, I’ve got just the thing. You know what you had for dinner today?”

“Beans,” Dustin said flatly, “that’s a stupid name. Unless...”

Steve grabbed a can out of the recycling and placed it on the table with great reverence. He looked over to the soldier for approval. There was a brand name printed on the label.

“Billy- beans. Billy beans!?” said Dustin.

“Well not the Beans pats silly. Billy.”

Dustin snorted and giggled. “Silly billy.”

Steve gave an exaggerated hrrumph.

The soldier squinted. Dustin was going to conk it soon, from sleep or from a good knocking.

“Come on, stop it. What do you think?” Steve reached out a hand and touched the soldier’s forearm lightly. “Do you like Billy?”

“Billy,” he tried. Compared to the way Steve and Dustin said it, his voice box produced something deep, dry and husky. A heavy tongue mouthing along something metal and unfamilia. Steve smiled warm and inviting. He preferred the way Steve said it. A ‘yeah, ok’ slipped out before he knew it.

The soldier was rewarded with a bright smile. It was odd and felt private with the kid dozing off to the side. Special and all for him, but so wide and open to the world. The soldier tapped the table nervously.

It could be a trick. Every droid had a directive. Skill sets. Talents. His was combat, survival, tactical. But Steve was clearly made for something else. Clearly designed to manipulate kid to do their homework, brush their teeth. Programmed for human interaction and control, but with a smile and a playful touch. One that makes them feel good. The soldier couldn’t help but feel it was working on him as well. He had to be very careful around this droid.

The boys head jolted off the table, leaving a puddle of drool.

“That reminds me -”

“Dustin-” Steve warned.

All of a sudden, Dustin was up in his space, poking at his neck. He grimaced at the brown stained fingers and pushed him away with full extend of an arm.

“Hey, stop it. I got to fix your voice.”

“My voice is fine.” It glitched a bit.

“Dustin,” Steve ruffled his hair, “give him a break. His arms taken quite a beating. Leave it for another day.”

“But I fixed it.”

"Hey, kiddo. I know this doesn't mean much since we've just met today, but I'd be proud of myself if I were able to what you can do. It must feel good, eh?

“Yeah, but I could do a few tweaks. It’ll only be quick. Just need to have a look inside and I can do some planning. Your's sounds so life like. So alive. If I can only compare- He’s like a talking brick compared to you. That’s a bad example, he barely talks.”

“Okay, Dustin. Come on,” Steve wrapped and arm around the kid’s shoulders and turned him back to his seat. “Lets get this washed up and then it’s bed time. No buts.”

“But... Washing up?!”

“What did I just say? And I promise I’ll charge on my station tonight, until it’s full like the doctor ordered.”

Dustin’s chest puffed up with pride. Yes, he was the doctor.

“Fine.”

  


* * *

####  `SEQUENCE 05: INT.`

New name or not, Billy trailed behind watching carefully as the two made their way to the living quarters. Steve had an arm around the kid as quiet words were exchanged and they turned off around a bend.

In all of his combat experience, Steve only registered low in the threat level department - but - something else deep in his gut was niggling at him at just the wrong way.

The ground he noticed.

It was spotless.

The smattering of soil from when they first climbed down the shaft had vanished. He looked up, and sure enough there was the trap door.

He could be mistaken, there was more than one entrance to the complex.

He followed the same direction the kid made when they arrived and pressed the same button on the wall.

Same room, same mouldy table.

He backtracked. He couldn’t trust Steve. And who’s he kidding, he’s got no use for a kid. He’s got a job to do and he’s got to do in order to get out of this hell hole.

With the droid distracted, he turned on his heel and made his way deeper into the complex.

Humans were predictable. Each zone had a directory and emergency evacuation plan. He’d already mapped out a significant portion throughout the day, add onto that, waste, power and resource systems. Plumbing is often built close together to reduce material use. Heating, ventilation and power is centralised for maximum efficiency.

He continued his search, adding to and filling out his internal floor plan.

He turned the corner, watching particularly for increase in security.

Large area - Waste Management Facility.

Uniformed spaces - support structures.

He kept his pace brisk yet quiet. Made sure to keep his foot falls light. Chances are “Steve” wasn’t the only one here.

Billy was cursed.

Cursed to be halfway free.

Cursed to have one last directive.

All droids have directives. Directives are an inescapable obligation. There are running directives. They are part of who you are, what you do and what you’ll do all day long. Like a baker who bakes bread, and only bread. And it’s what you were designed and built for.

#̷̢͟͢#̕#̴͘͡͝#̧͏̢#̨͘͟҉̵#̸#̵͠#̴͘#҉͢͟#̷#̵͝#̵#̶̶̢͡#̵͝#̷#̛͡#҉̷#̶̨͘͞͏#̵̢#̴̕#̵̸#̷͢#̸̢#̢̨͘҉#҉̵̨̨#̵̨̡͘#̸̕̕҉#͏̵̨͢#͠#̸͝#̸̢͞͝#̸#̴̨͠#̶̨̨#҉̴

That was his curse. His last directive and he can barely understand it. A last fuck you left over from his owner who would be forever hanging over him. But he knows somewhere here could.

“Billy?”

He was caught. A dear in headlights, trapped in the gravity of a black hole. Eyes so cheerful, yet a hauntingly dark void. Steve stood there, holding him with the weight of his knowing eyes, waiting. He crossed his arms and tilted his head to the side.

“You alright?” he said.

Billy refused to move. Like he had a choice.

Steve’s smile dropped. Whatever bright eyed persona he was carrying fell away like a mask. He could feel his guard was dissolving each step Steve made towards him. An outstretched hand touched his elbow and anchored them in place.

“Can we talk?”

  


* * *

  


“It was awful,” Dustin moaned. “He made me shower, brush my teeth and, and... put on pyjamas! I can’t believe he found pyjamas in my size. You’re supposed to be a big brother, not a mum. This is all before I could even sleep. I was soooo tired. He also said my brushing was subpar. Subpar! Like that’s a thing. And that I had to go over it again in the morning.” There was a sticker of a gold star on his lapel.

Billy found himself with chores. Waiting for the day to start by having to sit here and watch the two gits play fight during breakfast.

They were wielding imaginary swords and swinging them side to side.

“Chya Chya Chya, Hya.”

“Clang.”

“Agh, you got me..”

Steve mimed all his innards spilling out with his hands as Dustin laughed.

Git understatement he thought wryly. He can’t make any more miscalculations. Last night had been a mistake and now he’s shown his cards. So here he sits, taking in useless information that he’ll need to process and discard later. For example, the shower was awesome but Dustin was upset his clothes are in the wash, and his tooth brush was red. Woop dee doo.

“Steve stole my clothes, I swear if I don’t get them back.”

“Eugh, they were stinky. And they had holes in them.”

“As long as I get them back. That hat is one of a kind.”

“Hey Billy, I think I saw something in your size you might like.”

Steve had some clothes folded beside him and revealed a leather jacket. He also flashed his patented goofy grin.

The kid’s jaw mouth dropped having looked up from his cereal. “Why does he get cool clothes and I get this?!”

“What? Your clothes are cool too. Come on Billy,” Steve brought the jacket up to his shoulders. “Perfect fit, give it a try. There are some jeans too. I don’t think what you currently got is going to survive a rinse cycle.”

Billy paused, remembering last night again. How much control he had over him. He grabbed both items of clothes and made a get away in lieu of privacy.

“Oh,” Steve chucked something else at him, “here’s a shirt too.”

“Aw what, Metallica. Steve. Come on. I want to see where you’re getting these clothes because if these toddler pjs are anything to go by, I don’t trust your judgment.”

  


* * *

  


Dustin loves it here. Absolutely loves it. Loves Steve, loves his bed, loves the endless amount of books there are and all the questions he an ask and all the answers he can get. There’s even dental. He and Steve spent a couple of hours there. Got fitted out with a new set of teeth. A set of temporary dentures that he’ll have about two weeks to get used to. It was a reward for getting a scale and clean done. His teeth has never felt so smooth. The entire process was pretty awesome. Steve brought a device to his mouth and scanned them in. Watched it appear on the screen as he did and then watched it form in a gell mixture nearby. They checked out a library, got lots of books and movies. Found a giant swimming pool, that was a fun day. And a movie theater.

He couldn’t believe it took him four days to realise he was getting distracted. Four days before that gut wrenching feeling of dread returned. He was a terrible friend. While he was down here in some underground bunker, fitted out with enough food to sustain a village, his friends were out there, in god knows what.

He really missed them.

And he missed the ping pong ball that bounced slowly passed him.

“Hey kid, day dreaming on me?”

“Wha? Nah, I’m good.”

Dustin tapped another ping pong ball across the table. Later that night, Dustin tested his theory. Climbing out of bed he tip toed out his bedroom.

Steve was sitting as still as a statue. Back straight and stiff despite the soft cushions on the couch. His battery panel was open and he was charging with a blue glow.

Ok, he’ll just to make it to the front door.

One step, two step -

“Hey sleepy head.”

Shit

“Can’t sleep?”

“Uhh, just thirsty.”

“Oh, we’ve got water right here. I’ll be one moment.”

Dustin stole a load of bread while Steve wasn’t looking. After he was tucked back into bed he hid it under the covers. By morning it was gone, except Steve had it. Sliced into it with a unnecessarily long serrated knife, fired it up and fed it back to him. Dustin was too afraid to even say a word.

  


* * *

  


A bag slammed onto the table, “Billy. Good, you’re here.”

Dustin scooched in close making space for himself with his own junk.

Billy was going over his components and making sure they were functioning correctly ALONE in the engineering bay. His brow furrowed with the additional company.

A device was pulled from Dustin’s bag. It made a nose when Dustin pressed a button. Instantly something in Billy’s his communications zapped, smoke sizzled into the air vents.

“Oh. Sorry. I’ll fix that.”

“Don’t. What do you want,” his voice box was still deep and scratchy.

“We HAVE to talk?”

He grunted, seemed like everybody wanted to talk. He readjusted the communications device Dustin just broke.

“Ok. Just hear me out. This is a jammer. I’ve stopped the signals in this room, but it’s not fool proof. Only stops wireless signals. But I swear, Steve’s watching us through the cameras. I think he’s trying to stop me from leaving. And since you’re a soldier, you can protect me.”

“No.”

“What?! I need your help. You need me too. And I need to get out of here.”

He shrugged, “Not my problem.”

“Well it sure is a problem though isn’t it? And I don’t believe you’d be here for this long unless you wanted to. There’s something in here that you want. I’ve seen you go on your solo search parties. Now spill.”

He returned Dustin’s glare in a deadpan.

“Fine. I talk, you listen. If you like what you see, we’re going now. I’ve sent Steve on a mission and we’ve only got so much time.”

Dustin grabbed a piece of paper from his bag and unfolded a large map across the bench. There in an obscure area was the telecoms room. He mentally scolded himself for assuming it was something else.

“I assume I’ve got your attention.” He covered his mouth and made sure he was facing away from the camera too. “I’m going to make communication. I don’t believe they could have built a complex, even this far out, and not built coms cables. You coming?”

Billy gave a short curt nod.

“Ok, we have to go now.”

  


* * *

  


They made it to the coms room without a hitch, that is except two part door lock with voice activation.

“What now?”

Billy shoved him aside. He pressed the closed to the speaker and hit the button. An odd scratchy sound emanated from Billy’s body.

“What was that-” Asked Dustin, incredulously.

He shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

“Whatever,” he pushed Billy from the speaker, pressed the button and said his name. Then rattled the handle.

Billy rolled his eyes. “I can break it, but there will be an alarm.”

Dustin’s eyes lit up, “I can pull the power out. But it wont buy us much time.”

“Do it.”

Dustin took his new set of tools out and pried open a panel in the wall and stared at the multitude of wires.

“Um, this one?”

He cut it and it did nothing.

“What? Why don’t you know.”

“Uh, I’m so sorry. They don’t print out schematics for people who want to break into things and stuff.”

Billy groaned, reached over and ripped all the wires and the security panel went dark.

“That works.”

He then made quick work of opening the door, just a twist of the handle that sounded like metal breaking and a quick shove at the door. They were in.

Dustin tried the lights.

“Good going, you broke the lights.”

  


* * *

  


“Suzie, Suzie, do you copy. Over.”

Static crackling was all he was hearing.

“Suzie, Suzie, do you copy. Over.”

Dustin huffed and collapsed in his chair.

“Still not getting through.”

He spun around and looked over Billy’s shoulder.

“What about you? Um what are you doing?”

Bang!

“Aaagh!” Dustin screamed. The glass window shook and they both dropped to the floor, “What was that?!”

The droid looked back at him angry and as silent as always. Dustin turned to look out the window. With all the lights out, he could barely see anything. He assumed he could see a food court down there, but it was too dark. Then a shadow moved. SO much closer to the glass than he expected.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit, Shit," he stumbled backwards. "Lets go, lets go.”

Dustin grabbed his bag and the soldier grabbed his shoulder and hauled him out the door.

Left, right, the coast was clear. Billy ran right and he followed.

“You’re going to the bins?!” Dustin all but shouted. He gasped for air as he struggled to keep up. “No, we don’t know where it goes. We have to go back. Top side!”

All of a sudden a shadow stepped in front of them.

It was Steve.

“Uh, what are you guys doing…” he said nonchalantly. But with his hair in a mess, he could tell he was anything but.

“J-just, going to the bins. Just got to chuck something out,” yeah, that’s it. He was going with that one.

Steve stepped closer and Dustin stepped back.

“Yeah? Why don’t I do it for you.”

“Nah, um. I can do it myself. Can’t I Billy.”

Billy glared back at him. Dustin sighed inwardly. Guess he’ll have to dig his hole himself.

“Yeah, wanted to see how it works.”

“Alright,” Steve said playfully, “feels like you guys are playing a game. I don’t mind joining in. Let’s go together.”

He stepped forward, Dustin stepped back again, back hitting the wall.

“Steve?” he said quietly, unsure if it would work.

“Yeah buddy?” another step.

A cold sweat beaded down his forehead, “I - I’m hungry.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Steve smiled and walked the final steps to Dustin. A long arm rounded over him and gave him a side hug and a squeeze. It wasn’t long ago that this same gesture felt warm and inviting. All he could feel was his own sweat and nerves being pressed into to his skin like ice.

“Ok Dustin. It’s close to dinner soon so I’m not surprised. Why don’t you finish up and it’ll be waiting for you when you get back.”

Steve released him from the hug, gave another warm smile then walked off like nothing happened.

Dustin could feel his heart racing a mile a minute. He waited to Steve to turn a corner before shaking Billy’s arm, eyes wide hoping he could read his mind. The droid was blank and stoic as ever.

Fine.

He’ll have to escape with or without him. He turned and walked back to the direction of his room. The trap door was near there.

  


* * *

  


Billy returned to the comms room ignoring that nagging feeling that something bad was about to happen. He checked the machine. It had barely scanned past 30%. Fuck. He’d prefer his drive back before shit hit the fan.

The lights started blinking and then the sound of generators whirred on. All at once the room was in view, lighting up the other side of the window as well. Only, there wasn’t much to see.

The other side was a deep, dark cavity tunneled into the earth. Gaping and groaning the darkness wanted to consume him.

Bad news.

Something twitched in the shadows.

Rippling, shiny. Moving, crawling.

  


* * *

  


“Fuck!”

Dustin bashed the hatch for the third time. It didn’t budge. He’d tried the lever, even kicking it. FUck! This didn’t make sense. How was it so easy to open when they got in?

“DUSTIN!”

Dustin jolted and near concussed himself in the cramped space. Shit, he can hear Steve far below, and not that far.

He rubbed on the sore patch and got a bad whiff of his armpit, “jesus…”

“Dinner’s Ready!” Steve shouted again.

“JUST A MINUTE!” He yelled and then a quiet fuck, giving the hatch another jiggle.

“-language!”

Steve was doing something down there, but he could hear his pattering get louder.

He kicked the lever again, and this time pressed himself against the wall and his feet against the lever and pushed it as hard as he could.

“Come on, come on, come on, come on. - Ouch!”

His foot slipped and he brained himself propper this time making a good thunk.

“Dustin?! You ok?! What happened!”

Steve’s head was poking out from down below.

“Shit,” he wiped his forehead, “I’m fine. I’M FINE. I’LL BE DOWN IN A SEC.”

“You don’t look fine. I’m coming up.”

“No! Don’t. I - I need my space!”

“No can do kiddo, that’s dangerous, I’m coming up!”

Steve was carrying something shiny. Shit, and the droid started climbing up the ladder two at a time.

Shit. Shit. Shit. What could he do. What can he do.

He couldn’t concentrate over this noise.

The vent!

He pulled out his screw driver and unscrewed the panel away from the wall as fast as he could. He couldn’t remember how he did it, but he did. It must have been the adrenalin running.

“Dustin! What are you doing? Stop that this instance!”

Clunk

Steve struggled as a vent panel fell down on top of him. Dustin gave it a good kick as well before squeezing into the vent, folding his shoulders in easy. He’s never been so grateful for missing collar bones in his life. Cleidocranial dysplasia - you were good for something!

There wasn’t enough space to check his map but he decided he should travel as far and as fast as he could to get as far away as he can. He reached an intersection. Left or right. Left.

It was only after a while did he realise his mistake. The vents were getting gradually and narrower and narrower and he hadn’t seen an opening since the intersection.

He double backed, sweat pooling, skin sticking to the metal surface.

He was stuck. Could only go forwards.

Each movement he made pushed him into a smaller and smaller cavity.

He gasped, lungs with barely enough room to expand. His heart on its last leg of a marathon, kicked away at his ribs, heat rising, cramped furnace, sweltering.

Tears brimmed on his pudgy face and he sucked, coughed and cried.

This is it.

He cried.

The tears felt cool on his face. He can feel it. A slow draft of air. There was up ahead. He wasn’t sure how far but he had to keep going.

Fueled with new found energy he kicked and squirmed. Pushed himself along, along until he reached it. He bashed and kicked the vent out until it fell to the ground and he followed. Gasping for air and relieved to be welcomed to a large open cavity.

He never knew the smell of garbage could be so good.

Realisation hit him.

Bile creeped up the back of his throat.

He hurled.

  


* * *

  


Billy ran back to the living area, it was empty. No signs of the the kid or the other droid at all. He collected his knapsack and went straight to the trap door.

He gave the handle a turn but it wouldn’t budge. Hydraulic lock. Even brute strength wouldn’t move it. Chances are the whole place is locked down.

There was no time, this place was a death trap, he had to get out.

There’s only one exit that was guaranteed.

He followed his internal directory straight to the waste management facility.

  


* * *

  


The bins, Dustin grouched. Not the end of the world. He took a sip from his water bottle, and spat the taste of vomit out. Took a proper one next.

He surveyed the large chamber. There were sorting conveyors and processing units. Paper, plastic, metal and organic. Large pipes as well with grey water he read and he grimaced, brown water. Not going near that one.

There, that’s what he was looking for. An emergency overflow hatch. He pressed the button.

And again.

Click, click, click.

Nothing happened. In fact, everything was quiet, nothing was turned on.

He spun, looking around for anything important. Ahah! On a wall surrounded in hazard tape read “Warning. Manual Override.”

He pulled the lever and the sound of fans slicing air rang clear and the deep grumble of heavy machinery. All good signs.

Ok, back to the overflow hatch.

He hesitated. The sounds coming from that machine was more grim and choppy than he expected. There had to be a final terminal point. He followed the tubing and machinery, chasing the large reverberating pipes to another location.

That’s when he spots something odd.

A large round metal door sitting quietly in the corner.

The latch opened with without a hitch and he pulled with all his weight. It moved with a loud creak and hit a stop sounding like a gong to a deep drum barrel.

He peered in.

“Hellooo!” ~hello ~hello ~hello, it echoed back to him.

It was large, deep and unending it seemed.

He turned his torch on and climbed in on hands and knees before he stood up.

The ground was soft and dry on his fingers. He clapped his hands and it fell away like dust.

He sneezed, and spat away the dust that fell on his tongue.

It tasted like-

His foot hit something solid. He shun his light down it, but couldn’t make out what it was. He squatted down and held it out under the light.

A chill washed over him.

It was unmistakable.

Molars. Pre-molars. Canines. Incisors. He learned this not long ago.

They all lined a mandible from right to left.

The problem was he was all too aware of the proportions.

This was human.

This was a human jaw bone, teeth and all.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I watched _I Am Mother (2019)_ and I loved it. So I'm not sorry for doing that.


	3. The Directive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jump to:  
> > Sequence 06 - Previously 'Run'  
> > Sequence 07 - Previously 'Cerebro'  
> > Sequence 08 - Previously 'El for Eleven'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tag Update: Action/Adventure

##  CHAPTER THREE  
THE DIRECTIVE 

####  `SEQUENCE 06: INT. THE WASTE MANAGEMENT FACILITY`

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The door banged from the other side, hinges shaking on the door frame.

“Dustin, let me explain.”

Dustin was afraid. Afraid to breathe, afraid to move. He willed himself to keep silent but his body refused. His hands were still covered in ash. He wiped at his tears but panicked as the grey dust mixed with his tears and spread across his face.

It used to be a person.

A short sob escaped him as he struggled to contain himself and he curled up behind a crate of boxes.

Steve had found him not too soon after his discovery. He’d accidentally left the furnace open, saw him arrive as he sneaked off. Locked himself inside some kind of storage unit and locked the door, but of course, Steve knew.

Steve knew that he knows. And he knew that he knew what he’ll do for what he knows.

Breathing heavy, he chanced a glance around the crate. The door had one of those cloudy, wire reinforced port windows. He could see the silhouette of the droid’s hair. The shadow was pressed to the surface of the glass. Hands cupping around their eyes, looking in, watching, searching.

Dustin gasped, snapping his head back. It mast be too dark for cameras.

The handle jiggled.

“I know you’re in there. Come out and we can talk.”

He glanced around him. There has got to be something in this room that could help him.

He climbed up slowly on shaky legs, making sure he was still out of view. There wasn’t much in this room. It was all junk. Old broken chairs and furniture. He moved further into the garbage, hands feeling out what was in front of him, careful not to trip and make noise. He could feel frayed plastic netting. Metal tubing frames. Then the pads of his fingers brushed against something long and solid. His hand wrapped around it what felt like a handle. He could feel it was made of wood with the faint notches and grooves but it was stuck. There was a little bit of a give.

He pulled slowly.

The junk started to shift and he stopped. Breath held in his chest he tried again, this time twisting it to find where it was catching. It was smooth and consistent in shape. He’s got a pretty good idea what it was.

Feeling it moving freely, he pulled it from the junk. It was a baseball bat. Score. But then, the junk started sliding. Bashing against each other the junk toppled over and his head snapped to the door.

Sure enough someone was on the other side opening it.

Now or never.

Arms shaking, and adjusting his grip he lifted the bat above his head, waiting for the door to open.

The handle turned despite the lock and the door opened. It felt like time slowed and he swung the bat down as hard as he could.

The droid fell forwards and he jumped over it to escape.

  


* * *

  


Billy winced at the damage. He was investigating a noise when the little pipsqueek bashed him in the head. The kid jumped over him and his automation kicked in. He spun around, grabbed him by the collar and pushed him against the wall.

“Oof.” Dustin wheezed, squinting up at him. “Oh Billy!” He scrambled. “Jeez, I thought you were- ”

“Hey!”

They both turned. Steve stood at the end of the corridor, arms by his sides.

“Put him down!”

Billy clenched his teeth, “I saw-”

Dustin’s eyes widened as Steve dashed towards them, running in perfect form.

Billy lowered him to the ground and gritted into the boys ear.

“Get out of here,” he said and lowered Dustin to the ground.

He scampered off as Billy planted his feet.

The droid wasn’t stopping, charging forwards and rammed right into him.

The force knocked Billy backwards and Steve pinned him to the ground.

“I thought we talked about this.”

“We didn’t talk shit,” he spat and switched up motor functions trying to extract a free arm or leg to get an upper hand.

Steve doubled down bashing him against the ground, “DON’T Touch Him Like That Again,” his eyes bore down onto him again, direct and threatening.

Pinned to the ground, Billy flinched, looking away to gain some semblance of control and caught the edge of Steve running towards Dustin. He grabbed his leg and pulled him to the ground. Steve’s body smacked against the concrete.

The droid had a height advantage on him. Was faster, newer, built better, and if he dare say, stronger. But he wasn’t designed for combat.

“I Don’t Want To Hurt You.”

Steve swung a punch and Billy blocked. His hits were heavy and precise but Billy could throw them, harder, better, smarter. Take away his strengths. He looped his arms and legs around to constrict the droid’s limbs. Billy flipped them, roles reversing, now he was on top.

He glared down.

“What are those things in the tunnel,” he grunted.

“They’re mine,” said the droid and he butted him in the head, hitting the same spot Dustin had earlier. His processor glitched for a second.

Steve escaped out of his grip and Billy swayed.

Shook his head.

He could see the other droid getting farther and farther. This was suicide, and for what.

“I’ll cut off his head!” He shouted. It echoed along the walls.

Steve stopped dead in his tracks.

“Boil his brains!”

He turned around.

“You like the sound of that right? I hate kids. Personally, I enjoy teaching them the art of swearing. But if you’re all for direct violence, I’m sure an axe works better than a whip.”

Steve’s mouth moved, but he couldn’t hear a thing.

“What was that! Can’t hear you. Gotta come closer.”

“I said, I Didn’t Want TO DO THIS!”

Steve was on him in a second. Billy barely blocked a drop kick, a side swipe, an elbow. It was a barrage of attacks all at once and he was just hanging on.

Steve wound back a deadly blow and Billy used his momentum as he came towards him, grabbed his head and bashed him against the wall. He got up but Billy stomped on his leg hearing a horrible crack. The droid kicked him with his other leg and Billy caught himself before hitting the groud but got a punch to the face.

He climbed ontop of him, making sure to immobilise the droid properly this time, and pounded into the head. With this amount of damage, it should buy them enough time to escape.

The droid stopped fighting back, twitched. Struggled for a moment then fell limp.

  


* * *

  


Billy found Dustin near the waste compactor. He’d found the exit hatch in the ceiling and was struggling with the latch.

“Here, let me help.”

With both arms, he pulled down and the latch released itself with a clink. The door started to rise open to the afternoon sun.

“Wait,” Steve limped out of the shadows. “Please...”

Dustin stood his ground.

“You can’t keep me here. I have to go.”

“Find your friends. I know. I have to. You don’t-” he sighed. “It’s dangerous out there. There, there are things. THings that,” he pushed his hair away from his face in frustration. “Aren’t you happy here?”

“Listen, Steve. I know what it’s like, I’ve been out there a lot longer than you. And my friends are in it too, I can’t leave them.”

Steve ignored him though. “No. No, you don’t understand. You don’t know. Your friends. If they’re this far out they’re, they’re. It could-”

“What? Dead, don’t you think I know that! And what, here’s better?! What was it? Did you kill the people who lived here too right? It’s them in that furnace right? Or should I call it a crematory.”

“I- I-”

“Steve,” Dustin said softly. “Listen to yourself. You’re more a danger to me, than I am out here. By your directive, you have to let me go.”

Steve deflated and stepped back.

“Billy, lets go.”

Dustin shouldered his back pack ready to leave.

So was the soldier, until. He patted his pocket. Shit, his drive.

Dustin looked between Billy and Steve. “Whatever, I’m going.” He chucked the bat out the top, climbed out and left.

Billy stood awkwardly between Steve and the exit.

He motioned to walk around him but Steve crossed his arms and stepped in his way.

“Why aren’t you going.”

Billy tread carefully. “You want me to go?”

Steve grabbed him by his shirt and pushed him, the ladder dug into his back.

“He’s getting away! Go. You have to go with him.”

“I don’t need to do shit.”

“No, you listen to me buster, I don’t care what’s going on in that freakin’ head of yours but you make sure that kids safe and gets to where he needs to go or I’ll-”

He grunted, “or what.”

“I’ll make you regret ever having met.”

Before Billy could push off, Steve grabbed him. Pulled them down for a bruising kiss. Billy struggled against it, Steve’s grip tight and unyielding. Blue sparks scorched his insides, motherboard near frying. Billy had no choice but to open up and deepening the kiss to process the information; the sensations.

Somewhere in the moment their motions became soft and wistful. He found himself wanting more but Steve was pushing him away.

His fingers were wet from having cradled Steve as they kissed. He looked down at his hands wondering how they got their, but tears trailed down Steve’s cheeks.

He was crying.

“Please,” Steve hiccuped, “I can’t- Billy please you have to because-”

Something coiled in his gut. It was the same feeling he’s been having. Every time Steve looks at him. No every time he looks at Steve. Everytime he’s around him. Right now, in this position, it was impossible to ignore. It’s something-

He can’t place it. He doesn’t understand it. But he almost does. It’s on the top of his-

Steve is pushing him away, pushing him up the ladder and Billy’s arms and legs are moving without him.

The static hum is bombarding his senses again, disrupting his cognition.

No. No, he doesn’t want to go. The feeling. He knows it. It’s something familiar. Like a tether to a- in a-

The hatch closed with a clunk.

The darkness leaves him and he’s blinded by the midday sun.

It beats down his back. Long grass obscures his vision.

He’s back on the field, but he’s made it to the other side.

There are bends in the grass where someone's trudged through.

He sighs inwardly and follows along it.

  


* * *

####  `SEQUENCE 07: INT./EXT. THE ROCK`

“Say Ah.”

“Ahhh,” a hoarse scratchy sound radiated from the droid’s throat.

“Louder.”

Billy swallowed and did so again.

“I see it. I think. To the left. No the other left.”

Billy adjusted the torch in his hand while Dustin peered into an opening in his neck. The skin peeled back but he couldn’t see very much. A lot of metal tendons and structure was in the way.

“Stop, stop, stop. Yeah there. - Ah…”

“Ahhhh….”

A shard of rusty metal rattled in Billy’s voice box. It jiggled in pink-ish, red membrane and tubes of tough white plastic. The shard was jammed in there horizontally, and he bet if he turned it just the right way, he could make Billy whistle.

Dustin brought his tweezers to it and pulled carefully.

“Agh,” Billy twitched. His system flashed red in danger. “Stop.”

Dustin hummed, a hand under his chin. “This is odd.”

Dustin and Billy had set up camp up on high ground. In fact it was a large rock formation that rivaled pride rock as Dustin put it. “It had a cave and everything”. Setting up camp meant erecting a large metal device. Dustin said that it would act like a natural antenna and make it more powerful. He said all his friends had ham radios, and if he picks them up, that means they are somewhere safe. If not, they’ve got to go deeper.

The kid actually had more information than he did. He knew in which direction the signal distruptions were stronger so he knew where the hum came from. If they could travel far enough, they could figure out the source location.

Billy picked up a broken mirror and scrutinized the damage Dustin had done. From the angle it was hard to see.

“It’s so weird. You’re made up of all these mish-mash of parts and stuff but that in here is pretty fancy. And pretty lifelike.” Dustin prodded the insides of the droid’s throat. It moved ever so slightly as Billy turned his neck. “Well, I guess you were made for the government.”

Billy angled the mirror a little more. The gaping hole in his neck stung as the air brushed by.

“Let me try again and bear with me. Hold the light up again.”

This time, he dribbled a little bit of lubricant on, gripped it hard and pulled quick before Billy could react. Billy’s body seized anyway, as if in pain, red liquid beaded from the hole that remained. Dustin sprayed a sealant solution as Billy rocked.

“Stay still, almost there…”

He grabbed the torch in Billy’s hand and inspected if there was any more damage and then resealed the skin.

“Ok, you’re all good.” He slapped Billy on the shoulder and earned himself a scowl.

“So I can fix you up, but we’re not friends yet? Fine. How about a thanks.”

Instead of his usual grunt, Billy fiddled with his collar and Dustin heard a deep, clear ‘thanks’.

“Wait, say that again.”

Billy grimaced and Dustin slapped him on the shoulder some more.

“Come on!”

Billy caught his arm before he could slap him again, “Stop it.”

Dustin smiled ear to ear.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “that’s some sexy motherfucker movie trailer voice you have. Ok, wow. From this moment on, you should talk more. A lot more. If I ask a question, you HAVE to answer. This is a two way thing,” he motioned with his hands. “You’ve got no excuse now. How about, say,” Dustin drummed his hands on his legs and dropped his voice as low as possible, “in a land before time, one droid, against the world-”

Billy’s scowl deepened. He trudged off.

Dustin pouted.

“Fine, leave. Ungrateful bastard.”

“Language,” said Billy, but in a nasal high pitched voice.

“Don’t bring him into this.”

“Keep doing your scanning, or whatever,” and Billy left.

Cerebro was a one of a kind battery powered radio tower. It’s like a ham radio but the cadillac of ham radios. Had crystal clear connections over vast distances, talking north pole to south. Dustin thought back to the summer where he showed his friends his summer camp invention and he spent three days trying to convince them he had a girlfriend.

He climbed the rock a bit and adjusted the antenna at the top to point a bit more to the west and returned to the dials. Still static. It was a waiting game and they decided to stay here a few days just to make sure so he sat, switching between the frequencies he and his friends were usually on, and sometimes slowly swooping the whole band just to catch anything.

Dustin’s sitting turned to slouching. And his slouching turned to lying across the ground which a crick in his neck. He yawned and stretching out his arms.

Thy sky was turning reddish pink. It had been hours. He looked around wondering how Billy was doing.

He rounded the rock face to the other side and heard voices. His jaw dropped.

“Holy Shit! You’ve got something?!”

Billy startled as the kid ran into him. Dustin grabbed his shoulders excitedly.

“What are they saying?! I can’t hear, put up the volume!”

Billy pushed him away.

“It’s nothing. Go away.”

“What?”

Billy played it again. It was only a recording, not a signal, and it didn’t sound like much at all. Dustin slumped against the rock disappointed.

“Well there goes day one.”

“I told you it was impossible.”

The sun was setting and Dustin dismantled Cerebro. They went back into the cave to their camp site and buckled down for the night. Dustin pushed the last few beans around the bottom of a can.

“Um, so what was it? The thing you were playing. Before,” he asked.

During his travels with the kid, Billy had gotten the hang of pretend sleeping. It guaranteed a quiet night and less conversation. It involved lying on the ground and keeping his eyes closed. The key was having his back turned away from him.

“Billy?”

“What.”

“You know, what is it? The recording.”

Billy’s eyebrow twitched. Unfortunately it wasn’t working today. He shifted around and sat up, the heater warmed his face, Dustin waiting patiently.

“It was my. It’s my last directive.”

“Directive? I thought all soldiers have the same directive. You all serve and protect.”

Billy shook his head and rubbed his nose.

“I’m pretty sure I used to do that,” and he gestured to the distinctive blue and white markings he bears on his armour plating, “but I have no protocols to do so. So don’t expect me to save you or anything. But I’m pretty sure I’m privately owned. I’ve had too many additions and upgrades to be government issue. You can’t really see them straight away, but these,” he lifted his jacket to reveal shiny rectangle lines along his back. They were a crude old school version of solar panels. I didn’t do that. And soldiers don’t need that. Whoever owned me installed it.”

“Why don’t you just delete the directive?”

“I can’t get rid of it,” said Billy as if it was the most obvious thing.

“Well, why don’t I just delete it for you.”

“You can’t. I’d kill you first.”

“I’ll do it when you boot down. You won’t notice.”

“Well now I know,” He sighed, “and trust me, you won’t survive. But don’t worry. Once I can accomplish it, it’ll be gone and I can do what I want.”

“But aren’t you doing what you want right now?”

Steve flashed across his mind.

Dustin smiled, “like helping a poor defenseless kid.”

…

Billy hunched forwards.

“Do you want to hear it?”

Dustin nodded.

He played the recording.

  


#̷̢͟͢#̕#̴͘͡͝#̧͏̢#̨͘͟҉̵#̸#̵͠#̴͘#҉͢͟#̷#̵͝#̵#̶̶̢͡#̵͝#̷#̛͡#҉̷#̶̨͘͞͏#̵̢#̴̕#̵̸#̷͢#̸̢#̢̨͘҉#҉̵̨̨#̵̨̡͘#̸̕̕҉#͏̵̨͢#͠#̸͝#̸̢͞͝#̸#̴̨͠#̶̨̨#҉̴

  


Dustin could hear it a lot better than he did outside. It still sounded scrambled, but he could pick up the recognisable lilt of human speach and behind the pops and crackles. He can also hear there were parts missing or it jumped around.

“There’s meta data.” Billy spoke softly, hands clenched, almost wringing each other. “I know they are my owner. I know it is a command. But I don’t know who they are and I don’t know what it is. However I know I’m searching for them.”

Billy woke up that way. Forever wandering, hoping to cross a dead body and his system would know and he’d be free by default.

Dustin leaned closer to Billy's speaker. “You think I can decipher it?”

Billy shrugged. He tried many times. Regretably, he'd left the drive with the identifier back at the complex so he’d need to find a new one. Crawling out of that hole and walking out of that field felt like a blot in his memory. Like the days down there were for naught as if nothing happened. He followed this boy in and followed this boy out.

Except. He brought his hand to his lips, face heating.

He turned around and resumed his "sleeping" position.

“Tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll give it to you tomorrow.”

  


* * *

  


Dustin was feeling energised today. It felt good to multi-task. To be constantly busy. Although he was doing something important, he was also working on something else. And it felt good to help a friend. He liked to feel needed, even if Billy didn’t consider him to be his friend.

He’d knicked a mini computer from the complex before he left. It gave him glee when he jailbroke it. Imagined Steve nagging away at him and flitting about worrying about the warranty. He also knicked a lot of things, not just food. Toilet paper, his tooth brush, that sort of thing. His back pack was like carrying an anvil, it was a good thing Billy was here to carry it.

He played the recording over and over again. Maybe he needed to backwards engineer whatever happened to it. He fiddled with the settings.

  


#̷̷̨̘̮͕̝̜̖̗̯̦͎ͯͭ͐̾͐#̨̛̙͖̣͎̻̯̱̱͙̺̳ͭ͌̄̏ͥ#̥͇̦͎̗͕̬̙̺͎̘͖͂͑̒̿̄͢͠#̧̱͚̲̟̭͉͕̖̳͐̅ͮͣ̽͐̎#̷̨̺̼̥̩̰̹̼̻̝̤̪̥͎̭͓̗͈̃͆ͬ̈́̌̄̓͟#̸͔̦̘͚ͬ̾ͫ͒͌ͥ̀͌ͮ̍̄͟͟͟ͅ#̵̦̲͖͈̮̠̏ͤͦ͆̓̉͘

  


Nnnnn…. Worse.

He fiddled a bit more.

  


#̸̨̞̦̪̺̲̯̏͜#̷͉͇͇̬̉ͅ#̴̨̡͇͖̼͈͓̩̌̎̾̈́͌̚#̴̢̋̍̐͋͑̂̃́͋#̷̱̣̻͈̭͈͗̎̽̋͋̕ͅ#̴̺̖͔̖̺̜̾̈́͒̇́#̴̹͈̲̲̍̇̀͗͆#̶̛̮̰̥͕̝̥͕̭͓̈́͐̍̂̒̍̑̓ ̸̧͉̪̠͙͓̖̖̞̐͐̀͑̇f̷̫̗͙̭̲̎̍͐̉̓̈́̏#̸̢̻̫̭͎̩̯͑̊͛#̷̳̣̰͖̻̥͓͙̈́̅̔͛̑́į̵̱̗̦͈͕̓̾̆̈́̃̋͒#̵̡̧̪͕̼̲͒͑̾͆̂̈́̚͠#̷̻̺̘̥͈̫͕̭͚͑n̵̨̢̢͕̘̱̟̤̗͂#̴̮̭́̊#̸̬̫͂͆̇̒̅͘̕ḋ̶͍̤̻̱̝͌͌̌̓̀ ̸͎̘͈̜͊̍̄͐̀̚͝#̶̲̙͍͔̉̅̕͠#̴͎̌̔͂̑͝#̶͔̄͊͆̈́͘#̷̧͇̒̅̂͌̓̔̉̏͘#̸̡̠͚̤͍̮̣͕͑͝

  


He leaned closer to the speaker, squinting, and tapped the space bar again.

  


#̸̨̞̦̪̺̲̯̏͜#̷͉͇͇̬̉ͅ#̴̨̡͇͖̼͈͓̩̌̎̾̈́͌̚#̴̢̋̍̐͋͑̂̃́͋#̷̱̣̻͈̭͈͗̎̽̋͋̕ͅ#̴̺̖͔̖̺̜̾̈́͒̇́#̴̹͈̲̲̍̇̀͗͆#̶̛̮̰̥͕̝̥͕̭͓̈́͐̍̂̒̍̑̓ ̸̧͉̪̠͙͓̖̖̞̐͐̀͑̇f̷̫̗͙̭̲̎̍͐̉̓̈́̏#̸̢̻̫̭͎̩̯͑̊͛#̷̳̣̰͖̻̥͓͙̈́̅̔͛̑́į̵̱̗̦͈͕̓̾̆̈́̃̋͒#̵̡̧̪͕̼̲͒͑̾͆̂̈́̚͠#̷̻̺̘̥͈̫͕̭͚͑n̵̨̢̢͕̘̱̟̤̗͂#̴̮̭́̊#̸̬̫͂͆̇̒̅͘̕ḋ̶͍̤̻̱̝͌͌̌̓̀ ̸͎̘͈̜͊̍̄͐̀̚͝#̶̲̙͍͔̉̅̕͠#̴͎̌̔͂̑͝#̶͔̄͊͆̈́͘#̷̧͇̒̅̂͌̓̔̉̏͘#̸̡̠͚̤͍̮̣͕͑͝

  


Too slow. He increased the speed.

Tap.

  


#̵̪̻̔̃͜#̷̥̺̉̈́#̸̱̌͐͑#̶̛̤̫̾#̶̫̘ ̶̡̛̮͊͐̏̒f̷̱̹͙̲͐͑i̸̡͓̣̭͑͛̅n̷͓̦͉͓͈̿d̸̖͎͚̓͊͘ ̸̫̏́̊#̸̯̯̦̙͛̋͘#̷̺̙̣͚̅͐ͅ

  


His eyes widened.

“I think I hear something!”

Billy was outside doing his rounds of the campsite.

“Billy!” He shouted again and the droid came in.

“Listen!”

He played it. It had terrible crackling, and loud pops, but under all that he could definitely hear someone saying the word ‘Find’.

Billy grinned wide and patted him on the back, “good going kiddo.”

That was the first genuine smile Dustin had seen him make and he beamed back.

“How’d you do that?” Billy asked.

Dustin explained as he went, but not before saving a recording of his current work.

He continued to test different techniques on the audio file. Trying to reduce the noise, making the tiniest adjustments. It was difficult since the condition was so bad. Both droid and bou sat crouched over the small computer, leaning closer and closer.

Finally they could hear something significant. A sentence at least.

  


c̷͕̗͇̞͆̓̍͗o̷̰̅̏̿͐͐͘m̸̨̻̱̼̥̞͔̖̝͖̖̒̉̂͐̄̉̋̍̐̕e̴̡̨̲̬̯̊̅̿ ̵̦̝̅̿f̴̢̡̰̰̱̰̩̻̲̔i̸̞̘̲̼̩̯̖̟̥̗͗̒͗̒͜͝n̶̡͚͓͕̯̼̼̜̯̦͍̉̾̀̈́̄̍͘d̶̛̖͚̼̬̝̥̥̤͖̄͑͜ ̷̛͉̯̪̥̭͎̰̻͔̜̾̋̂͛̿̐͝m̸̝̱̺͉̲̪̣͛͂̇͘̚͝ė̸̹̙̓

  


“Come find me!” Shouted Dustin, “I got it!”

Billy scooted over and played it again, and again. Sure enough he can hear it too.

“Come find me? I wonder what that means,” mumbled Dustin.

Billy slumped onto the ground in frustration. Find me?! That’s what he’s been doing. So there were no new leads. AND he’s lost his identifier.

“Hey, it’s ok. I was only the ending. I can try someplace else. Although this was the most promising section already and…”

Billy looked up at the boy. He did really work hard. He’d never had anyone make such an effort for him before. “It’s ok kid, you did good.”

“Well, we’ve got hours. No harm in trying.”

He continued to play the recording. Choosing a new section and played it again.

This time voices rang out, distinct chatter and their eyes bugged.

Dustin turned the volume all the way up and he winced as nails scratched his eardrums instead. It’s not the computer. They turned to each other.

“Cerebro!”

  


* * *

####  `SEQUENCE 08: INT./EXT.`

“Wait, wait, wait. What band width is that…”

Dustin dialled the volume up.

There was a loud screech that sounded inhuman and pushed two fingers into his ears.

“Jeesus, what was that?”

“I don’t know!” Said Dustin.

Bang. Bang.

Bang. Bang.

Yelling. Young voices. Screaming.

“I think that’s Mike. Mike! Can you hear me! Ov-” He Shouted, but billy covered his hand over the receiver and slapped Dustin’s hand off the button.

“Stop. They’re in trouble. You’ll get them killed. Check where they are.”

Dustin fretted about his gear. “Ok, so they have to be west of us. And,” he looked out. The area below was overgrown farmland, the long highway snaked through the patches of land and from memory, there were train tracks that lead into the forest. “They must be on higher ground. But that could be anywhere, we might not even be able to see it.”

“We move,” said Billy. “Keep going west then try again. Hold on let me try something-”

Billy surveyed the expanse again. This time he activated his targeting system. It locked eight points of interest that matched Dustin’s descriptions.

Suddenly something moved over a crest of a hill. A yellow van.

“There!” He said. Pointing towards it.

“Where?!”

Dustin swung his binoculars to the hill.

It was a school bus. It dipped over the crest and out of sight and then the signal cut out.

“Thats it! It’s them! Let’s GO!”

  


Both Dustin and Billy made quick work packing up their camp site, choosing to leave behind anything not of value to them to keep travel light. Worst case scenario someone else would find more use out of it.

The trek looked terribly long, however worry filled Dustin’s thoughts and by the time they got there, it felt like no time. The road had skid marks that swerved off the road and haphazzardly onto a dirt track. They followed it through the forest, the tire tracks leading them to a junkyard.

Billy pulled aside him aside and hid them behind a bush.

There was the school bus. Smack, bam in the in center and odd slimy creatures crawled around it. They could hear shouts and screams from inside.

“Will. Lucas.” Dustin clenched Billy tight.

One of the creatures opened it’s mouth wide and made a garbled metallic screech before bashing itself against the side of the bus.

Meanwhile, Billy’s nerves was getting the better of him.

He’d seen them before, but he’d barely been in the room long enough to see much. They looked exactly like what he saw in the tunnel, rippling, twitching, shiny. Only a pane of glass stood between them and him. Here, they were larger, scarier. Black shiny skin and rows and rows of teeth. He remembered how fear struck him in the moment, when he was alone in that room. He couldn’t imagine what they could do before, but he had a feeling he was about to find out.

“Give me the bag,” said Dustin as he pulled it off his Billy’s back. “Shit. Where’s the baseball bat.”

“What baseball bat. You never had it.”

“Yeah I did, I bashed you in the head with it remember?!”

Billy distinctively remembered him leaving without it.

“Forget it. It’s too late now. You’ve got me remember,” Billy rolled his shoulders, clunked his fists together and gave the kid a reassuring wink, “and I’m all good as new thanks to you. All you need to do isstay here.”

Billy unsheathed a knife and sneaked up, toes choosing soft ground. He stuck to the perimeter, looking for the weakest target. He had to be quick. The bus was taking hit after hit, the metal groaning in distress and the children inside screamed each time.

This time, Billy had the benefit of the afternoon light. The creatures were organic and wiry he noted. No heat signatures. The neck was thin and in living animals will consist of major arteries and the choke point of a nervous system. Decision made.

Knife poised, he attacked.

A slice up the jugular - twist and pulled for good measure.

His knife clinked and scraped against something hard and immovable.

The creature yowled and turned on him.

He reversed and pulled back and stabbed into the face of teeth.

It tried to bite at him.

I’m all metal baby, he humoured himself.

He gave the flowery face a beating of it’s life. He was wearing the teeth down and sliced up the petals as much as it sliced up the black leather around his arm. It screamed in pain. As it fell, he used the momentum to twist the head away from the body and it snapped, blood and muck spilling to the dirt.

Electricity zapped.

There was metal sticking out of the neck.

“Billy, behind you!”

The other creatures had heard the commotion and were moving towards him.

Two jumped at once, while the other rounded to the other side.

He could manage one, but three at once. He made a run for it, jumping over a junked cars.

One went to bit a his leg. Near got him too but he kicked it. Sliced at the head, feeling his way to bone or metal or whatever. This one didn’t keel over as fast as it’s brother and chose to claw his legs together to allow it’s friend’s to attack.

He punched at one, slicing the air to keep the other away and kicked furiously at the one at his legs. He brought his fists together and pummelled the one at his legs crushing it’s skull in, but he felt teeth on his shoulder and he found himself being dragged away. He kicked away, grabbing at passing vehicles.

Without warning the teeth in his shoulders were gone and black goop was smattering across the ground, one thump at a time.

Steve was there.

No Steve was here, whaling on the creature with a baseball bat.

Long legs, long lines. Refined swing. It was as if he was made to bash strange creatures into the ground.

A sight for sore eyes he thought.

“Billy! Focus!” Steve’s mouth moved.

Billy looked behind him, rows and rows of teeth clamped onto his arm and he swapped his knife to the other hand, stabbing at it until it let go.

Another five were coming.

Steve was making do with a bat, but another was sneaking up behind Steve. Billy smashed the creatures head between his fists taking Steve by surprise. It took a horrible crunch but he had to cut at it’s head to make sure it died.

It as only when they were back to back did he remember and his anger returned.

“What the fuck are these Steve,” he glanced a look at the droid behind him, “mind filling me in?”

Steve swung at one and it retreated.

“I can’t. They’re different.”

Steve took a hit but Billy punched it off him Steve finished it off.

“Bull crap. You’re keeping them as pets in your little museum.”

Billy knocked at one and Steve bashed at another.

They were getting overwhelmed as much more surrounded them.

“Agh!” Billy turned around and Steve was caught, his bad leg in the mouth of a creature dragging him off. Billy willed his legs to carry him there as fast as possible and punched it in the head. It didn’t let go, and two more jumped on his back. Billy stabbed and stabbed.

The fighting was futile.

A scream filled the air.

The air began to vibrate, ground shaking. The ever present hum pitched higher in his ear and Both Steve and the creatures were being lifted into the air.

He could a tingle in his follicles and he could feel his hair floating up in static, ramrod straight. Everything began to sting as the buzz of electricity started to sing.

ZAP!

A volt of lighting zapped through the creatures, the droid caught up amongst them.

ZAP! ZAP! ZAP! ZAP! ZAP!

It looked like a flashing net of light suspended in the air.

Then an explosion.

Electric blue lightning burst from the center blinding him, and the bodies splattered to the ground.

Billy hit the ground with an oof as well, and he blinked. He hadn’t realised he’d been floating in the first place.

“Billy! Steve!”

The door of the bus swung open and Dustin ran out followed by a few kids. Then Dustin’s eyes snapped to somewhere outside the junkyard.

“Mike!”

And then another boy was running towards them.

“Dustin!”

The boys along with Will and Lucas ran to each other and collapsed in a big hug. Another kid watched from the sidelines. They had very short hair and wore a dress.

“Dustin, this is El,” said Mike, “She saved us.”

“Yeah,” said one of the boys. “Short for Eleven.” They were covered in grime and were filled with exhaustion. They had been through a lot before even getting here. The girl walked towards them. Her nose was bleeding and she wiped it.

“Hi El,” sniffed Dustin, “I’m Dustin.”

But El wasn’t paying attention. Instead her head was turned off to the side, curious about the droids in the mess of metal and black, frizzled goop.

“Steve-”

Billy was crawling towards lump on the ground. The lump started to move and Steve rolled over, a hand clutched at his stomach.

Steve winced as he righted himself, “I’m ok.”

Dustin ran to him but stopped himself just in front of him. His body shook, tears blooming. Confusion, betrayal and fear bubble up his throat.

“Steve,” he cried and launched himself at him. He hugged him tight, squeezing his torso.

“Easy buddy.” Steve held him in his arms, fingers curling through Dustin’s hair. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry Dustin,” Steve cried back.

Everyone looked on as Dustin hugged a droid on the ground. Dustin pulled them up and walked him to his friends hand in hand.

He wiped his nose. “This is Steve, and that’s Billy. They’re androids and they’re my friends.”

Billy hung back, feeling all too close for comfort.

The kids latched onto Steve in awe and Steve responded in kind easily lathered them attention back. They spoke animately of his swing, his fighting, asked questions and Billy was brought back to the day they first met. Directive. That’s right. He’s finished this task. Steve can babysit them, he can go on his way now.

Billy watched on and it was him and the strange girl silently looking in from the outside.

  


Steve was overwhelmed.

It had been so long since Steve was surrounded by so many children. Left, right and in every direction they pulled him towards them. His synapses were on fire, his legs weak. He noticed the motor movements in his arms weren’t responding as it should but he didn’t care. There were so many happy faces around him. He took a few more steps, bombarded by information. Good information. he was distracted. All of a sudden his legs gave way and he found himself on his back staring up. He tried to speak, but the electrons flowed through him like thick soup. He zero-ed in on the last image ahead of him; small and grainy. The lense quivered, coming in and out of focus.

Then everything went black.

  


Billy found himself falling along side as Dustin checked over the droid. Alarms rang out within Billy as extreme temperatures began to radiate, steam seeping from the body. He pushed Dustin back.

“Stop, don’t touch.”

Dustin flinched and snapped his hands back.

Steve was cold. Really, really cold.

  



	4. Hooked On A Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jump to:  
> > Sequence 09 - Previously 'Syncope'  
> > Sequence 10 - Previously 'Hooked on a Felling'  
> > Sequence 11 - Previously 'Mad Max'  
> > Sequence 12 - Previously 'Far From Dead.'

##  CHAPTER FOUR  
HOOKED ON A FEELING 

####  `SEQUENCE 09: SOME TIME AGO`

Steve broke down as he watched Billy and Dustin climb out the hatch and out of his life for good. Them arriving was everything that he dreamed of. He was a shell of a thing before they arrived, with no point for anything. Trapped underground, to live with his demons forever. He wouldn’t admit to it, but he was ready to end it all. Purposely rigged his charging station to overflow. Bad thing about the machine was that it was too efficient. He wouldn’t know when it would happen. It could be years before it finally broke down.

But then he saw them. Billy specifically. The droid of his dreams that he plays over and over again. A recording from a previous save. A glitch. A damaged data packet that could never be erased. He wanted to believe his past self did it on purpose, but that was too much to hope for.

Steve filled with determination again. He couldn’t leave it at that. He had to know if there was something between them. He had to know if there was a possibility of another life. Of something else. The last Steve had walked out of his life, this time he wasn’t going to be doing that. He wasn’t going to let him go, not again. Not that easily.

He pulled at his hair. There had to be something. That’s right! Dustin had imprinted on him. He must protect him from eminent danger. The outside was dangerous. The could be monsters out there. 

He grabbed the baseball bat lying on the ground and stormed back through the complex. A blow torch sparked to life and he unbent and refused his broken leg. Finished up with a spray silicon sealant and matched the skin tone. It was a rough job, he mainly needed protection from the elements.

The baseball bat hit the bench followed by a scatter of nails. He hammered each one along the curve. He held up his make shift morning star. Then he collected anything else of use, makeshift weapons, food, clothes, collected extra sets of batteries and swept them all in a bag.

Steadfast, he climbed up the ladder but has his hand reached the latch, he hesitated. He could never survive a voice told him. It snarked at his model number. His purpose in life. He was to be kept in doors. He was built to be hidden away.

He fought against it. There was a little boy out there walking into the jaws of death and he had to protect him. That was his directive. And if he could reunite with the even the shadow of the a soldier that he once knew, so be it.

  


* * *

####  `PRESENT DAY / EXT.`

Steve booted up in a groggy haze. His monitoring system is indicating a critically low battery. It pulses red at a steady rate but he ignores it as he can feel a faint trickle of energy pouring in. It’s not enough to be fully functioning so he forgoes his usual boot up sequence and saves his Syncope Recordings for later.

9.36 AM.

His sensors are more capable at receiving and returning data. The surrounding are bright and his optics are white against the light. He blinks a few times and see’s he’s propped up. There is grass under him where he sits. Sparse vegetation flutter in the breeze above. Air dry and warm. Birds are chirping. His gyroscope is tilted. His weight leans to the side of something sturdy and strong. Warmth cradles his head and he confirms he’s resting on someone’s shoulder. There are chips of blue and white paint along metal panelling.

It’s Billy he recognises.

And he is without a jacket or shirt.

Nudity should incite a bashfulness. If it’s a stranger, he should recoil, but it’s not. Not to him. Even though this Billy is.

Besides, he’s too tired to care. Too tired to not take in his fill. To take in the long lines of metal filaments run down Billy’s his nape and across the wide expanse of his shoulders, down his back. The tight cables of muscle flow down his back and knot into two little divots just above the hem line of his jeans. Steve follows the spine back up, and the metal filaments shimmer in the sun like ripples on water. They catch him in a dream about the ocean and he itches to run his fingers along them, to touch. The nodes at the end of his finger ignite when he does so and Billy jerks away at the sensation.

The energy he’d been receiving plummets and the energy drains from him.

“Uh, hey.” Billy looks over his shoulder, he’s a mess of golden locks in the sunlight.

“Sorry,” he pulls his hand away still mesmerized by the solar panels, “it’s beautiful.”

The electrons flows again when Billy’s back receives the full sunlight. He gains more energy and the syrup that muddies him feels more viscous. He feels like he’s kicking as he tries to swim to the surface of runny honey but he can’t quite make it. His movements are slow and speech more so. His receiver echoes back to him his mumbling speech.

He remembers imminent danger and his CPU kicks up as he tries to stand.

A warm arm curls around his waist and holds him steady.

“You need to charge-,” says Billy deep and finite.

He knows what he wants to say but Billy is so close. So close his optics are so blue. They blink lazy back at him. This close, he looks young and so human.

“-We’re safe here,” continues Billy. His voice reverbs through him, Steve’s body stalls and allows Billy to hold him. Any effort of movement of processing devours the remaining charge within his batteries and he’s lulled into sleep mode.

  


* * *

  


The next time Steve boots up he can feel his synapses firing strong and steady. The sun is high in the sky and his battery indicates its safe to review his Syncope Recordings and executes them.

_[Dustin is running. Shouting.]_

He fast forwards through them quickly.

_[Billy is punching.]_

_[Blood, guts.]_

_[Monsters, slick dark skin, faster and more agile.]_

He skips through the videos, collecting importing information and compiling them in neat files.

_[Children, children trapped.]_

_[Teeth, so much teeth]_

_[Happy children, bright smiles, tears, wiping snots, pudgy faces.]_

_[Billy is fighting.]_

_[Kicking frantically at teeth. Rows and rows of teeth.]_

_[The ground is lifting away.]_

White noise and static overflow the feed. It squiggles across the image in rows and rows of grainy lines. Glimpses. He only gets glimpses between the lines as a jerky band moves down the video file.

_[Lightning.]_

_[Metal skeletons.]_

_[Sparks.]_

_[Melting goop.]_

_[Smoking meat.]_

Blue light fills to white in the shaky band of vision and he’s confused if his vision is completely gone but then it cuts ofline. Time stamped system information show minor external and internal damage.

There’s missing time then the next recording he was present for. He fast forwards again.

_[Dustin crouched over him with Billy and the children behind.]_

_[Billy is carrying him into a bus.]_

_[The bus rocking as it moves.]_

He’s still charging strong and takes less time to review older recordings.

_[Dustin chats animatedly about finding his friends as Billy looks down at him. The camera moves in step as Billy carry’s him bridal style.]_

_[The look on Billy and Dustin’s faces bathed in red and blue light as they first activated him.]_

_[The kiss he stole before pushing Billy away.]_

Steve smiles and licks his lips. He plays it again. Then another time.

A gasp tugs from within that wasn’t his. An out of body sensation activating an intake of air that he did not initiate. He’s taken a back.

Suddenly there is coughing beside him and Billy looked awkwardly between them.

Billy lifts the arm around his waist and Steve sees it. His shirt is lifted over his open panel and Billy’s panel was open too. He could see almost everything inside, but most importantly, the wires and cables of different sizes connected them together. They were connected in almost every way possible.

His fans spun fast in embarrassment. He was exposed. All his thoughts, programming and executions exposed for Billy to see. They were practically a few steps away from interfacing.

He dropped his face in his hands, “Oh no. Dustin?”

He could feel Billy nodding beside him. “He wasn’t entirely sure... so he connected... all of them.” Billy looked away again.

Anxiety built up and he moved to disconnect them.

“Wait,” Billy stopped him. “We tried just connecting only the power chords but it wasn’t fast enough. This is better.”

“Listen, it’s fine, I’m at thirty percent, I’ll just,” he pulls away again, but Billy’s arm curls around him again keeping him close.

“Not enough,” he says, but this time, mirth pulls at his lips.

Steve’s head tilts, still processing what he was hearing, “Your voice,” he say, “Did Dustin-?”

“Yeah, you like it?”

Steve liked it. He definitely liked it.

With the connection, he could tell Billy very much liked his own voice as well.

The information flicked between the bond like a snap. They echoed each other like they were in a closed circuit loop and Billy’s thoughts came at him hard and fast. It was a struggle to keep up.

_What do you like about it?_  
_How do I sound?_

_It’s warm and brassy._  
_What about you?_

_Same._

_About your voice?_

_No yours. I like yours. It’s nasal, it’s sweet._

_Nasal isn’t sweet._

_Cute._  
_Pretty._  
_You’re so pretty._

More loose threads of data branched off each packet of information before disappearing into the abyss. He caught one before it vanished;

Aroused, Trusting, Bemused.

Something was wrong. Steve has interfaced before. He was no stranger. He’s had many a rendezvous with a fellow droid and was far from a blushing virgin, but this was different.

Billy’s thoughts and executions were ruthless and wild. He disregarded conventions, ignored formatting rules but not from the lack of trying. It was just — too much information. Data upon data, strings upon strings, time stamps barely a millisecond apart — of thoughts, feelings, a running commentary that was too much for Steve to handle.

He tried to let go, but it refused, swallowing him whole.

Nervousness, fear, worry, humiliation. Billy was turning on him. A darkness was enveloping him. 

_Those Monsters. What are they._

Visions of the monsters in the junk yard snapped into the present, but someone else was viewing it. More monstrous and exaggerated, the images swirled as they were being edited without his permisson. This was bad. He was lost within Billy's stream of consciousness and there were no secrets. He won’t be able to hide.

_I don’t know, they’re different._

Distrust, Lies, Appalled.

Billy took over, probing and unforgiving, searching as his defences crumbled. Steve could yell and scream but he couldn’t hear himself over storm that was Billy and then images flashed between them. No. No. This was the-

_[Alarms blaring, amber flashing down dark hallways.]_

_[humans melting, meat sludge, broken bones, crawling, crying.]_

_[Steve crawling away, fighting, bashing at clamping teeth.]_

_[People running, screaming, thunderous clawing, large unending, swallowing, consuming.]_

Hyperventilating he was there, Steve was back there, and he couldn’t get out, he couldn’t move. Images ran behind his optics. He closed his eyes, but they wouldn’t go away. He had no choice but to watch.

_Stop. Please Stop._

_[chasing, trapping, furnace, fire, burning, ashes, screaming, dying, mass of skin and flesh throbbing, burning]_

_I believe you._

Vulnerable, Hurt, Humiliation, Frustration-

_You kissed me._  
_Why did you kiss me?_  
_Why me?_  
_Why did you kiss me?_

Steve saw himself, Billy’s thumb upon his cheek, tears staining, eyes crying.

_Always you. It’s always you._

Fear, Loss, Numb

_I was selfish. I wanted. I wanted what I couldn’t have. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry._

Lonely, Hopeful, Scared

_I want to kiss you. Let me kiss you. Please let me kiss you. Can I kiss you?_

_Yes, Billy. Always yes._

Nodes picked up pressure upon his lips and Steve found a foothold onto reality. He breathed in registering the world around him but it fell away almost immediately. Billy was too much, so much. A surge of power followed the constant stream and all at once he could feel Billy all over him, all around him, all inside him, all through him. It was a cacophony of technicolour, a swarm of screaming cicadas burying themselves in his eardrums. It was as if Billy was consuming him whole, trying to pull him into himself till they became one.

A moan escaped Billy, deep and rumbling as the kiss deepened. He could barely keep up, desperate to decipher every menial thing he was receiving. His world tipped backwards, and he was drowning under white noise down, down, under the deluge, delicious pressure rocked him heavenly into the ground. Heavy hands roamed his body as a weight anchored him upon the grass.

Tentative licks turned to heavy tongues, he was coming to. Billy sought refuge in his mouth and swallowed, swallowed him back down.

“You sound so good,” Billy’s chest rumbled. Steve was panting, coolants working on overdrive, chest rising and falling, “and you taste so good,” and Billy delved back in again, wanting more and more and more.

No, this wasn’t Billy, these were his own thoughts. He wanted more. He could hear it now, he chanted to Billy; More! More! More! And Billy was more than happy to give, give, give.

He wanted to see more, hear more, taste more, feel more and especially touch more.

Billy gave in the only way he knew how and ground down into Steve and stars bloomed at the friction.

 _More_ , Steve demanded. Steve could feel his copulation protocols initiate, lubricant released from within as an incessant hard line of equipment rubbed at Steve’s pelvis. He cried at the fabric impeded them. Billy tensed, hands grappling denim jeans and rocked harder into him. Harder and harder and Steve cried for the near release, too soon but just a few more clicks from short circuiting.

All at once, all the cacophony, all the thoughts, feelings, emotions, the promise of stolen pleasures - it was all mute.

Nothing.

Nothing but the bland binaries of his daily computing, his body ached for all that was missing, his cooling system gasped for more intake, chest rising and falling. It had been real. It was real.

Billy panted above him, eyes darting about as he tried to catch his breath.

In a vain attempt to create space between them, Billy made to move off Steve, but they were still connected by the cables, all but a few. In their interfacing and rough coupling, they had knocked a few loose and broke the infinite feedback loop that had trapped them.

He chose to collapse instead on the ground beside him and they caught their breath together.

“Steve is awake?!” Dustin’s voice was nearby and Steve jumped.

There was rustling in the bushes and they pulled apart, disconnecting all the cables between them.

“Billy! I heard something.”

Steve was bowled over with an armful of Dustin.

He was covered in band-aids and Steve hugged him tight checking for more bruises.

“Stop! Stop it, it tickles, I’m fine,” Dustin batted his hands away. “You were supposed to tell me when he woke up.” Dustin frowned at Billy who was inconspicuously wiping his mouth his his hand.

They received a grunt before Billy trudged away and out of the clearing leaving Steve feeling empty. But he’s got a child to attend to.

“Steve,” Dustin looked up and than he punched him in the arm. “Why did you do that! I’m angry and upset that you did that!”

Steve rubs his arm, “I’m sorry Dustin, but I. You wouldn’t believe me if I’d said. I know that’s not enough, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not that.” Dustin sighed, “Mike, the guys and El already explained what happened. I’m sorry and I get it. People have been going missing and turning into giant monster goop. But I’m not angry at that. I’m angry that you treated me like child. I’m angry that we didn’t talk thinks through. I’m angry that you trekked after us with only a few spare batteries,” Steve flinched, “and I’m upset that you risk your life to get to us.”

Steve fiddled with his fingers eyes downcast. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“I’m sorry too.”

Steve frowned, “Dustin, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“No Steve, I have to say this. I’m sorry for, you know. controlling you.”

“I’m a droid. It’s what I do.”

“No, but you’re different. You’re my friend. Both you and Billy are. You scared me too, Steve, I didn’t. I didn’t realise. You don’t have any solar. You can’t survive out here can you.”

Steve shook his head.

“We. We need to get to the city. We need to get back into town or something.”

“Dustin, I’ll be fine. Come on, I’m already,” Steve’s brow furrowed, “fully charged,” he noted. More to himself than to Dustin. “All thanks to you, my little McGyver. Billy told me all about it.”

“Yeah, did he tell you about that piece of metal I found in his throat. That big guy was so close to being a walking kazoo.”

Steve laughed, “That sounds hilarious. By the way, Dustin, has anyone told you anything about interf-” Steve paused with second thoughts, “-nevermind. So what is this about Billy and a kazoo?”

  


* * *

####  `SEQUENCE 10: EXT. HESS FARM`

Steve and Dustin emerged from the clearing and were met with a rag tag group of kids. They were fighting over a radio on the edge of a farm.

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s going on here,” Steve stepped through the sea of of heads and pushed them apart.

“Hi Steve,” said a boy with a bowl cut, “We’re telling mom, um Joyce and Hop where we are,” this must be will, he was at about an inch shorter than the rest of them.

“Oh,” the android looked to Dustin.

“Joyce is Will’s mom and Hop is the Sheriff.”

“Oh the town?”

“It’s just. They’re friends.”

“Ok.”

“They’re getting us passage into the city,” said Will.

“No, we should meet up, it would be faster. Over” The other two boys were shouting. Steve reviewed his recordings and confirmed that was Lucas in the camo gear.

“We’re already on our way. Over,” came a woman’s voice from the radio.

“Don’t worry, we’re safer here. And they know where Hess farm is, Over” that was Mike.

“That makes it even more dangerous. Over,” countered Lucas.

“Just make sure everyone sleeps inside. We don’t want a repeat of last month do we Mike,” that was a man’s voice.

“Hopper,” Dustin pushed through the two boys and took over the radio, “you’re supposed to say over when you’re done, so we know. Over.”

“I don’t care. And it’s good hearing you. Good to have you back, see you guys soon.”

The party finally decided to stay, convinced with two droids and a girl with powers, that they were safe. Voices coming from the radio finalised the decision, “Don’t move, we’ll be there by tomorrow.”

“Now what are we going to do for eight hours,” huffed Lucas.

“We could teach El how to read, what do you think?” Mike scratched at his neck as he looked over to El.

“Enough,” she said. “I’m sick of the old donald.”

“Old McDonald?” Will asked Mike slyly.

“Lets have fun instead,” offered Dustin, “we can have a party. We can even make our own games.”

“Yeah, when’s the last time we had proper fun,” said Lucas.

Mike punched the air, “No parents! No adults!”

“Parents?” asked El and Mike explained the word to her.

“What does that make me?!”

Dustin looked up at Steve and patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’re cool.” He finger gunned.

Steve squinted and pointed his finger out eliminating Dustin’s finger gun.

“I’m still keeping an eye on you guys. And don’t think I didn’t bring your homework Dustin.”

Dustin clutched his chest, “Homework?!”

The kids raided the nearby farm and found led tea lights and battery operated fairy lights. They stole lots of blankets and pillows and made a fort inside the school bus. The sheets spilled out over the grass and they propped it up like a caravan tent. Steve had to move his cooking to the other side.

Steve grabbed another can from his backpack and soaked in the jittery giggles coming from the bus. He’d lots of stuff for Dustin. Some good books too. He could hear them passing one around taking turns to read. It was a fantasy novel. He was certain he had the first few in the series.

Five kids, he sighed.

Was it a happy sigh? A sigh of relief? Billy would know. Billy, the droid of a few words, would be the one who knew how to feel in a scale he would never comprehend. It’s probably the sigh of relief Steve concludes. Relief that he grabbed more than enough food. More than necessary. Sure Dustin was a growing boy, but he hadn’t realised how many friends Dustin had, and a plus one from the sounds of it.

Spicy smoke and steam wafted up through the bus windows and the hungry kids poked their heads out now and then trying to steal glimpses. Steve’s mind was elsewhere though as he looked up from the cooker and out over the farmland. Billy was nowhere to be seen. Sure the sun was setting and the trees were tall, but when Steve arrived Billy had announced in his usual grouchy manner that he was going to scout the area for any dangers. He hasn’t seen him since. Steve remembered standing there like a dud expecting them to talk about what happened. Except here he stood, spatula in hand, wondering-

He blinked out of it, what was he thinking. He shook the pan a little harsher than he should. He wasn’t built for this. This was crazy. A glitch. It was only a glitch. Maybe Dustin connected them wrong. A miss fire of some sort. Or maybe Billy’s has something broken on his side. Maybe a hardware fault. Billy was, he tapped his chin thinking for the words. Inefficient? Repetitive? Disorganised? Over bloated, overzealous, overstimulating, and - not over here.

Steve huffed as strand of hair fell over his face.

It’d never work.

What was he thinking. Kids. He’s got kids to think about. He set up five bowls and poured the fried rice and beans in.

“Dinner time!” he yelled, and Dustin’s head popped out through a bus window followed by a few others. Dustin’s mouth was so wide and salivating that his dentures near fell out.

“Come, on, pass it up,” he said.

“No way jose. You guys gotta come done here and get it.”

The windows slid closed and small feet thundered through the bus. It brought a satisfying warmth through him. This was it. This was what he was built for.

After the kids collected and ate their food, and brushed their teeth which was a hassle in itself, Steve followed the kids back onto the bus.

“Wow, this is beautiful guys,” said Steve.

He looked around and couldn’t help but be in awe. The sun was on the brink of setting and the sky dipping from purple to blue to black. Inside however, the fairy lights glittered through the sheets with a diffused glow.

All the kids had personalised a seat on the bus into soft beds for themselves and they were very proud of it, showing off and explaining their decisions. The tonnes of plush cushions and bedding that it looked like a fire hazard, but Steve let it slide. It looked to soft and they were happy. Besides he knew what to do if things went awry. They’d also took liberty to the stuff Steve brought with him as books, paper and as stationary littered across the floor.

El grabbed a drawing and showed it to Steve.

“Us!” she said, “Mike, Lucas, Will, you, Dust-tin and other guy. Do you like it?”

“I love it, you’ve got a great eye for colour. You’re a great artist.” El passed the drawing to him as if it was for him to keep. “Thank you.”

“It’s for you. Will’s a better - art-ist. He did this,” she showed him another drawing much more advanced. “He’s showing me.”

The kids kept chatting and goofing about, now where near from sleeping like Steve had expected considering the time. He deduced they all slept in, in the morning.

He stood up at the top of the bus and placed his hands on his hips.

“This is not a party,” he announced. The kid’s snapped at him appalled ready for an argument. The worked damn hard on their sleeping tents and Steve grinned. “It’s not a party without music.”

Steve jumped up and started bouncing around. Music started playing too. It was coming from Steve and the kids lit up.

“Come on, lets dance,” Steve was bumping about with the beats and held his hand out to the closest kid - Mike.

“Nup, nup, don’t wanna,” he was the tallest and the most responsible. But El was more than happy to join in so he took it anyway. It didn’t mean anything. Eventually they were all singing or if Steve would have to define it, shouting.

“I-I-I’m, Hooked on a feeling!” they shouted, “I’m high on believing!”

  


* * *

  


Billy kicked about “scouting” the perimeter. From his data, things were better here. The hum significantly reduced. He’d even scraped suspicious clump of brown from the bottom on his shoe. There were new saps growing and plenty of poop around. Shadows scuttled above confirming nocturnal animals were plentiful.

The truth was, he was stewing. His job here was done. He’d escorted the child to his “friends” and they didn’t need him any more. He was free to continue his mission. He looked back to the bus and his knees felt week. Chills rattled up his spine to the fingers in his hand. Something in him has been haywire since this morning. And there hadn’t been anything he could to to tamper it down. He wanted to. His fingers itched, throat burned. He wanted to stave it off. Stave off this feeling. This urgency that had him - discombobulated a voice suggested.

His face twitched. Agitated. Agitated and broken. That’s what it is. His body has taken damage in the fight and he’d need to check for repairs.

He finished his twentieth round of the perimeter. Perhaps he should have stopped a few rounds ago. Figured rounding the number up would give him more time to process. Thought about pushing it to thirty, but here he was. His boots stopped with a clunk and he looked up the steps of the bus. The school bus was shaking as the kids jumped up and down. Music and singing travelled along the metal panels and the kids were laughing and screaming with joy. His face twitched again. Agitation he confirmed. He was unused to the environment, unequipped to entertain pubescent children.

But he knew why he was here. This morning confirmed it. He wasn’t continuing a deed, he wasn’t being a good samaritan. A base instinct within him didn’t want him anywhere else but here. He took the the steps one by one — each step, narrow and deep, like taking leaps of faith — trusting a gut he hadn’t listened to in years.

He climbed up and over, and there he was, Steve. Basked in the glow of glittering lights, dancing. Goofy and awkward, trapped in his own world of pure delight.

The music tuned back in and Steve was pulling him in, “Billy!” he shouted, “You’re here!”

Billy nodded feeling awkwardly stiff amongst the singing and dancing children, but Steve took no mind. They were attached at the hip if Steve was concerned. Refused to let him go for the whole night. Dragged Billy around with him as he jumped around with the kids.

Steve and the children all sang into the night until they had lost their lungs to sing. All Billy could or allowed him to do was smile along. That was what he told himself, but it was not hard to when his muscles moved without him and Steve would glace at him with that beautiful smile and expectant eyes.

When all the children had fallen asleep, it was just the two of them. A serene and soft melody hummed from Steve’s speakers and Billy felt weightless in the motions. 

“Steve?” Billy said softly, but his deep voice travelled through Steve’s chest where they touched, “So those in the tunnel, they were your owners?”

Steve looked away and they stopped moving.

He nodded, “They — they all turned. It was bad. They were hurting each other. They were going to harm them. What I did. What I did to them. It’s unforgivable.”

“Steve, look at me. It ain’t your fault. You had to do it.”

“The scary thing is, I wanted to. It felt good. I was keeping them safe.”

“But they’ve turned. They’re not the same any more.”

Steve hugged him tighter, “I know.

“You know, you could be free.”

“Don’t.”

“I could. It would be an accident.”

“I would have to kill you,” but Steve was smiling as if he appreciated the thought.

“Billy?”

“Yeah?”

“What did they do to you?”

Billy looked down at himself, he was a trash can compared to the droid in front of him and something in him deflated. Why would a droid like Steve like a droid like him. Something ugly bubbled out of him and he pulled away. “Where do I start?”

“No, I mean,” Steve’s hands reaching out for him as they separated, but Billy stayed put. Steve sighed, “I mean the,” he gestured between themselves and whispered, “the interfacing.”

Billy frowned his shoulders hunched, “what, what do you mean-”

“No, no, no, I liked it. It was different. It’s just, I’ve never had it like that before. Maybe,” Steve found himself rambling, “maybe it was Dustin’s wiring. Maybe he stuffed it up somehow.”

Billy was rubbing his nose, “Yeah, maybe.”

“But, but I liked it - and, I’d like to do it again, you know some time. If, um, if you’re up for it.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I do, I do.”

Steve watched as Billy mull it over, eyes glued to the floor.

“I’m-”

“It’s ok if you don’t want to-”

“It’s not that. It’s, I couldn’t,” their eyes caught as Billy looked back up. He sighed, “I couldn’t control my self, and, what I said - I said was true.”

“I know. Me too.”

“I can’t seem to. I don’t know what it is.”

Steve stepped into Billy’s space, checking to see if it was alright.

“Was it, um, your first time? -we can take it slow.”

Billy’s smaller frame began to heat up, “I’ve - there’s a part of me I don’t remember. I don’t know what that was-”

“It’s ok, we can take it slow.”

“-but I liked it. I liked it very much - as well,” Billy looked up at Steve, hoping he appeared sincere. Hoping his face worked right, “you never know though, you might need an emergency charge in the near future.”

Billy grinned making Steve smile too.

“I’ll be sure to ask Dustin for those chords again.”

“He won’t even hesitate.”

“That’s because he doesn’t understand.”

Billy scoffed, “Humans.”

Billy brought his arms around Steve, letting his gravity guide him, “You know I liked what we were doing before. Before I so rudely interrupted it.”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

With only Steve here and no kids awake to spy on him, he felt free to initiate, hips moving a little, and Steve giggled.

“You mean dancing?”

“Yeah, dancing. I like it too.”

Steve joined along. They swayed, side to side, slow and gentle. Time passed as the starts creped across the sky and they refused to part from each other. Eventually, Steve rested his head upon his shoulder, conserving a little more energy. They swayed, slow dancing to a moonlight serenade.

  


  


* * *

####  `SEQUENCE 11: INT. THE SCHOOL BUS`

Billy stayed up while Steve booted down and snuggled in with the kids. After the sun rose, two cars drove in. A truck caked in dirt drove all the way into the field followed by a waft of dust. The wind screen looked to have been wiped a few times already and a large man climbed out and scrubbed at aggressively with a bucket and a squeegee. The other car, a nissan sedan, kept it’s distance, a silhouette on the horizon, parked at the fence-line.

A small woman climbed out from the passenger side of the Truck.

“Will!” she yelled with delight, making her way to the bus.

Some of the kids had roused from the noise already and Will perked up.

“Mom!”

He scrambled out of the group of kids and raced down the isle of the bus. The bus door collapsed open and he near jumped into the small woman’s arms. The other kids followed soon after.

“Steve, this is Joyce,” said Dustin and Steve held out his hand. She hugged him instead.

“Mrs Byers, it’s lovely to meet you.”

“Oh, call me Joyce.”

“And this is Billy.”

Billy stiffened as Joyce enveloped him in a hug.

“Ooh, look at you,” she smiled at the soldier, “a very handsome fellow aren’t you. Where did you find them Dustin?”

Steve was vibrant and loving the new faces. He was in his element, pampering the children and making small talk. Billy wasn’t good at that. Instead his focus switched to the the stranger on the horizon. Everything in his gut said danger. Beware.

Lucas piped up, “Who’s that?”

The man, Hopper or Jim slammed a car door wiped his hands on his jeans. The windows and mirrors were watered and wiped down as efficiently as as briefly as he bothered. Everything else would have to wait another time.

“That’s our escort, or handler,” his moustache bristled as he spoke, “their our ticket to The Brimworks.”

“What!” said Mike, “You said we weren’t even to be going near them.”

“I know kid, but we’ve tried every other way. This was the last one available, and they’re the only ones biting.”

Mike crossed his arms, “Fine. But I don’t agree.”

El and Mike climbed into Hopper’s truck while Joyce’s little body climbed into the bus and made herself comfy in the large drivers seat.

“So you guys are with me. I see you handled them well,” she said looking over her shoulder. The kids were taking the lights and sheets down and folding them up.

“Oh, no, they did that all themselves,” said Steve, “you should have seen it last night. It was beautiful.”

Joyce plastered a sad face on, “I’m sad I missed it. It’s good for them to be kids. I want to see them being kids more often.” A real sadness flashed across her face. Only briefly and then she was cheerful again, “Alright kids, are you ready?!”

“Almost!” yelled Dustin. He was struggling to push a large cushion under his seat. “Ok, done!”

“Alright, lets go!” Joyce put the lever in drive and pulled onto the dirt road following Hopper and the nissan in the distance.

  


* * *

  


After a while on the highway they were met with two other cars and a large semi truck. They all stopped at the side of the road. The nissan drove up to Hopper’s truck and rolled down their window. They couldn’t hear what they were saying but Steve saw a large pink balloon of bubble gum pop in Hopper’s face, then the nissan turned and parked behind the bus, trapping them.

Hopper sighed as he got out, and he motioned Mike and El to come with. The two kids followed and climbed into the bus. Hopper stopped at the bottom of the steps.

“We’ve got disguises. I’ve also informed her of the additional two adults sizes required.”

Steve nodded, glancing at Billy.

“Disguises?” grimaced Dustin.

“Holy shit,” Lucas and Will peered over from the back of the bus, “it’s just a kid. She’s a kid. It’s a girl.”

El looked out too followed by the droids and they all looked at each other.

Red hair bobbed behind the boot of the nissan and a man with a rifle on his back walked up to her. She spat some choice words at him and flicked him off as he left.

“What was that about,” asked Hopper.

“None of your beeswax if you know what’s good for you.”

She made sure he knew she had a firearm on her.

“Here are the passes. You didn’t give me much time for the extra two so that’s an extra two thousand. Cough up.” Hopper grunted and handed it over.

Boxes were handed up into the bus and they opened them like presents, except it wasn’t. All the kid’s faces contorted in pain whereas El was intrigued. Inside was a bunch of catholic school uniforms.

“St. Bernard Grammar school of Decorum,” read Mike.

“Gross,” and similar remarks were passed as they passed them down.

Dustin scrunched his face in confusion, “What’s decorum?”

All the uniforms were the same; blouse, vest, jacket and slacks with a matching hat and socks. The shoes were clunky and fake leather, but they were the shiniest things they’ve worn in a while. Joyce cordoned off an area with the sheets for El to change with quiet words. “Oh, us girls have got to stick together yeah?”

The red head returned with another box and climbed up the stairs. The box hit the smack on the floor before she could pass it to Hopper. Her eyes went wide and she charged through the changing boys to the back of the bus and pushed Billy to the floor. The droid was having none of it.

“Get on the floor,” she spoke between gritted teeth, “or this kid gets it.”

There was a quiet ‘which kid’ and a slap in the background but Billy nodded and crouched to the ground.

She returned to Hopper furious, “Droids weren’t in the deal.”

Hopper looked to the kids and Joyce, keeping his poker face on. She didn’t notice Steve then, “No droid, no deal.”

The red head snapped back to the droid on the ground.

“He can’t go with you guys.”

“And why not?” said Steve, trying to block her way. Hopper held him back, eyes flicking between them.

“Look at him, he stands out like a sore thumb.”

The red head kept her stern composure and addressed the droid directly in a low commanding tone. “Do you want to the city?”

Billy looked down. The floor had that terrible shoe grip pads that stopped people from slipping. It looked rough enough to light a match. His eyes flicked to Steve. Steve was going because the kids were going. Billy was going because Steve was going. But something about this seemed off and he could feel the girl knew more than she’s letting on.

He nodded.

The red head nodded and left with a curt, “I’ll be back.”

Once she was out of earshot it was all whispers inside.

“What the fuck?” said Dustin.

“Does she know you?” asked Lucas.

“Do you know her?” asked Will.

Billy shook his head.

Concern crossed Steve’s face, “Billy?”

Billy didn’t reply, he was focusing instead to the sounds outside. The red head and the nissan.

“She said his name, it was quiet, but I heard it,” Joyce spoke quietly to herself. Perhaps, maybe to Hopper or Steve, 

Steve heard it too. She knows him, and he didn’t like where this was going.

He turned to Hopper, “We don’t have to go with you guys. We’ll stay here. Ask for the money back, or I’ll pay you back.”

Hopper shook his head, “I don’t think it’s that simple,” they’re in more trouble than it looks, and it seems they’re already in too deep.

The red head returned dragging a large travel suitcase. Joyce and Steve are in their robes, or the teachers outfits and they are as gaudy and terrible as they imagined, and Hopper had gotten away with a Bus driver’s outfit with a little greyhound logo on the vest.

“Ok,” says the red head. “We’ve got a greyhound waiting in two clicks,” another bus Steve presumed, “You will be swapping vehicles then and only then. You will be leaving your vehicles behind. Only bring necessary items. There WILL be security screenings. No knives. No weapons. If one of you gets flagged, we ALL get flagged. And the droid,” Billy squints knowing where this is going. “He’ll be travelling in this.”

She rolls the suitcase across the floor. It’s large, but it looks like a squeeze.

“He gets in there now. He does not get out of the suitcase. He will be carried out of here in the suitcase and he will be placed in storage once we get to the greyhound. If he gets out or even thinks of getting out. You will be dead. You all will be dead. Do you understand.”

Billy makes a move to get up but he stills as she places her hand on her hip, but more importantly her gun.

“I said. Do you understand,” she’s not speaking to him, but to everyone.

“Yes,” Steve says, “we understand.”

The little girl sizes Steve up. She barely reaches his shoulders and she nods him to the direction of the suitcase. Steve moves, legs weak with nerves and he lies the suitcase flat on the ground. Stiff fingers feel around for the zipper and finds it quick, opening the bag. Billy starts to move.

The red head’s nostrils furled, “I said down,” and Billy bends his knees and keeps his eyes on the girl. He crawls towards the bag without any more reprimands, making sure not to be seen through the windows while he does so. Dustin’s eyes catch his as he makes his way down. Dustin heard it too he notes. He’s may be hiding from more than he knows. Smart kid. He makes eye contact with Steve while he climbs in. It’s ok, he wants to tell him but there’s no time to talk. His joints bend further than they should as he climbs in, but he’s fine. Just uncomfortable. Steve zips it all the way closed feeling eyes on his back.

She nods in satisfaction once it’s done. “Ok, no funny business,” and then she’s gone.

They all let out a sigh of relief when they can’t see her any more, but it’s not over yet. Hopper returns to his truck while everyone stays on the bus. Joyce’s hands are shaking as she grips the wheel.

“Hey,” says Steve. “Let me drive, you need a break.”

She looks over, hands more cold then sweaty and they latch on to his sleeve, “No, no, It’s fine. We’ve been through a lot worse, don’t you worry about me. I can do this.”

Steve looks ahead, the cars haven’t moved yet and he sends her a reassuring smile. “Yeah, but I can. Stay with the kids, stay with Will. He needs you. They need you right now.”

Joyce looks back at the kids. They hadn’t spoken a word since the encounter with the red head.

“Yeah,” she sighs, “yeah, ok.”

  


* * *

####  `SEQUENCE 12: EXT. ON THE ROAD`

The switch over to the large grey bus went without a hitch. It was harder for Hopper to hand over his keys to his Hawkins Police blazer. He’d had it for more than a decade. It was traded with a clunky set of keys as he climbed into a the greyhound that smelt of geriatric creams. All the kids squirmed in their seats, making sure they had everything they wanted in the provided backpacks. The other vehicles were already moving, the school bus and blazer turning back around. Hopper said one last goodbye as the rear lights disappeared in his side view mirror.

Then there was the girl in the nissan. Watching his every move.

Joyce gave the nod that they were ready and he shifted the stick into drive.

Timing was crucial. It was why they left early in the morning and was why they hadn’t had a break. The city was on the horizon. It was surrounded by a silver wall reflecting the sky like a promise of the seaside. However, by the time they would arrive it would be far into nightfall. Any later and the morning dust would catch their vehicles and blow their cover.

The greyhound bus pushed onto the highway and followed the Nissan and the other two vehicles.

Meanwhile, Steve barely had a chance to see the city from the outside. He’d snuck into the cargo hold under the bus with Billy at the last minute hoping Joyce and Hopper wouldn’t say a thing.

It’s dark inside and there was barely any insulation. One one side there was heat of the engine and friction in the bus and by nightfall the thin metal of the door barely kept the freezing cold away. Billy, or the bag the droid was in had been strapped in to netting and Steve sat right beside him.

“You doing ok in there?” he asked but Billy didn’t answer.

He unzipped the suitcase a little bit and there was a mop of hair. Billy moved a bit, or at least he thought he did. It was rather dark, but he received a grunt for his troubles.

After a while, Steve noticed lights start to dash by between the gaps of the metal doors. Then his gyro tilted as the bus slowed down, turning every once in a while. They were nearing their destination. The greyhound slowed to a stop, and Steve ziped Billy’s bag back up.

Footsteps paced outside followed by muffled conversation. The metal hull of the bus was slapped twice and they’re moving again.

The lights from outside cut off from a shadow or something and the bus stalls to another standstill, engine purring. All of a sudden the door of the cargo hold opens and an arm is pulling Billy’s bag out. It’s not Joyce or Hopper and Steve scrambles to follow before the door slams shut.

“Hey,” he tries to say before he gets a wack in the face.

It’s the red headed girl.

She’s taking Billy.

Steve stalks over to her and grabs the suitcase, but she’s got a sure grip on it

She turns on him and snaps, “Don’t make a fuckin’ scene.”

She glances back and so does Steve. They’ve arrived at a checkpoint at a mouth of a large tunnel into the city. There are security guards dotted around and they’re checking the passes at the front of a line of vehicles.

“Passes, can I see your passes.”

Hopper’s elbow is hanging outside the drivers side window. He can see his face in the mirror. Steve jerks the bag more, hoping he’ll catch the movement.

“Is there a problem here,” says a security guard. He’s decked to the nines in black and blue gear, a Soldier droid stands behind him as backup. The red head flashes the most innocent smile and Steve is taken a back, remembering how young she actually is. Probably about the same age as Dustin and his friends.

“No sir,” she says, “this is my bag.”

Steve shakes his head, “No, no, this is my bag, she took it from the bus.”

The security guard nods along, and goes to check the label, “Anna-belle Smith,” he said. He turns to the red head, “young lady, I.D. please.”

She shows it. It matches. Of course it matches, it’s her bag.

“Sir, please return to your entourage.”

“Hey!” Everyone turns to the deep voice, it’s Hopper.

The kids at the back of the bus are staring, Dustin is angry and is shouting something that they can’t hear. The girl is struggling to lift the bag into her boot and the soldier moves to escort Steve away.

“No, no it’s alright,” he says, “we’re travelling together, I’ll go with her.” He makes a motion to Hopper to keep going. Hopper nods and the bus door collapses closed and the greyhound starts to move on.

“Young lady, is this man travelling with you?”

“No sir, I don’t know this man.”

“Alright, we’re not having any of this. Come with me.”

“No!” Steve rips his arm out of the soldier’s grip and runs back to Billy, “-Agh!”

Suddenly he’s collapsing in a spark of pain, and the Soldier emerges from behind him with a long taser, hauling him up again.

The bag rips open and Billy’s large bulk emerges ready for a fight.

“Don’t you dare touch him,” he says and Billy’s on the other droid, soldier on soldier.

“Fuck!” says the red head, and the security guard is calling for back up.

Steve tries to grab a hold of Billy but he’s lost a lot of strength from the zap, whereas Billy is a whirlwind of brute and muscle.

“Billy,” Steve gasps, clutching his side. He’s losing power quick, “stop, it’s ok.”

Everything is happening at once.

Men from the other vehicles are coming towards them.

The bus stops too, tires screeching, and the kids are pouring out while poor Joyce and Hopper are shouting after them.

The red head is yelling, “-fuck off Neil, this is mine!”

A tall man with a moustache and crew cut walks calmly through chaos and stops dead in their tracks.

The red head is running towards them too, “Run Billy! Run! Run!”

“Billy,” the man’s voice booms, “Stand down.”

And Billy does, to the surprise of everyone, including Billy. His eyes dart to Steve and the people around him. But he’s surprised about something else. He knows his name.

He’s found his owner, and he’s far from dead.

The security guard isn’t having any of it, “Is this your droid? This…” the security guard inspects Billy and his blue markings, “-this, this… Do you understand you are transporting this - abomination of a soldier illegally?! I will need papers now or you will be arrested! You will all be arrested!”

The man strolls casually and clicks his fingers.

“Sorry sir, this won’t happen again.”

Another man, clearly a henchman now, returns with a folder and browses nervously through a large stack. He finds the one he’s looking for and hands it over to the Neil. Neil then hands it over to the officer.

“I’m sure everything is in order.”

The security guard examines it closely with a torch. He turns and checks the other side of the paper, gets out an instrument, stamps it and writes a note with a signature.

“He is overdue for a renewal,” he scribbles a bit more, “there will be a fine waiting for you at the checkpoint,” he hands it back. “No more nonsense. See that the droid is placed in appropriate transport. Return to your vehicles at once. Do not hold up my line ever again.”

Out of the corner of his vision, an engine roars and the Nissan speeds off out of the cue, bounces off the asphalt and into the night.

Steve pushes through the lag, his sensors are fogging.

“Get the girl,” he hears. There are shouts and car ignitions starting, but he runs. He thinks he’s running. His legs feel like they’re wading though water. He makes it to Billy.

“Wait. You can’t go-” but Billy is a solid wall. A solid wall to Steve and a solid wall to the henchmen trying to hall him off.

“How did you know,” says Billy.

“Know? Know what-”

“How did you know my name,” Billy said it so quietly he could have missed it. His brows are furrowed, he’s hurt. Steve’s heart sinks. “You knew on day one, didn’t you.”

Steve’s eyes searched Billy’s, searching for an answer that he couldn’t say. Not one he can explain in such a short amount of time, “-Billy.”

“You knew,” he says again before pushing Steve away with a hard shove to the shoulder, and Steve falls unable to catch himself. Eventually the henchmen make some headway and pull Billy back. They drag his dead weight off and onto the waiting truck with belts and ties.

Everything is wrong, this is wrong, Steve finds himself being dragged back too. Concerned hands and eyes. His audio finally tunes in capturing Dustin’s screaming.

“They can’t take him!” Dustin is saying. He hasn’t stopped crying. He has tears and snot drooling down his chin. His face is splotchy red. Joyce is already holding and rocking him as motherly as she can and the children have crowed around. “Steve, do something! Hopper!”

Steve can’t help him.

The bus is a mess, everyone is distraught. Hopper shifts the gear into drive and the bus lurches into motion. The tunnel swirls past without care.

Steve can’t help anyone.

Joyce looks to Hopper in the rear-view mirror and Hopper’s clenches his teeth, the steering wheel near bending under his grip.

”There’s nothing we can do,” Hopper says, “They’ve got papers. There’s nothing we can do.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs referenced are Hooked On A Feeling sung by Vonda Shepard and Moonlight Seranade sung by Carly Simon.  
> Unfortunately Vonda Shepard's is not on spotify so it is not on the playlist.


	5. Return of the King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for re-organising. For the update to the most recent chapter, please click on Sequence 15. Thank you :)
> 
> Jump to:  
> > Sequence 13 - Previously 'The Return of the Champion'  
> > Sequence 14 - Previously 'The Magic Number'  
> > Sequence 15 - Previously 'Cyborgs and Replicants'

##  CHAPTER FIVE  
RETURN OF THE KING 

####  `SEQUENCE 13: INT. THE JAWS OF DEATH`

The anger in a crowd builds along with the anticipation. The longer they wait, the more fights break out. There’s banging and clawing on the chain link fence that surrounds the arena. They’re upset that they’ve drunk all their booze, irritated that they have to buy more for the show. Impatient chants fill out the stadium and the concrete slabs beneath them waver on the brink of a stampede.

A gold bell rings on the main screen and lights flash red and blue for signifying the start of the show.

The crowd’s agitation hones in on the movement down below thirsting for blood.

A synth drum rolls through the loud speakers and a deep voice rumbles. 

“Welcome to the three hundred and eighteenth Cage Wars match! - brought to you by INTERALL,” spotlights dance across the arena in mesmerising patterns, “Please welcome your host, Roland Walker!!!!”

Pumped up music bellows and the spotlights turn onto a man with slicked back hair and bleached white teeth. The crowd goes wild with his entrance, near bursting at the seems with the pent up energy. The ever enigmatic announcer eats it all in. Struts and winks as he steps through the arena and plants himself centre stage. His muscles bulge from his shiny black suit, and he shows them off in a few Mr Universe poses. A chrome mic lowers from the rigging and a gloved hand catches it mid swing.

“Ladies And Gentlemen- Are. You. Ready!” the sound system pitches and the crowd cheers. He spins slow, basking every inch of stadium with his bright white smile. “I said, ARE YOU READY!!” the rafters shake as they eat up his every word.

“I have Bad News!” and they boo predictably, “The Underminder will no longer be Challenging our Champion Tonight! BUT, You Will Not Be Disappointed!” he smirks unperturbed by the shattering beer glass as alcohol and hot dogs rain down.

“Tonight!” he pauses, “Tonight we have been given a RARE Treat! Tonight we have a never before seen, Once in a Lifetime Event! Tonight!” he grins teeth sharp as ever, “We get to experience two of the Biggest Champions to go Head to Head and We will Once and For All, know Who Is The Ultimate Cage Wars Champion!!”

An epic, heroic tune builds up from the speakers. It’s filled with brass and body and the audience starts to clap in rhythm as they cheer. A gloved white finger points with dramatic flair to one corner of the arena and the entrance is thrown wide.

”In the red corner, coming in at six feet, four inches, weighing over four-hundred pounds, Smasher of Two Face, Slicer of Ya Dreams, You love him, He’s Your Favourite, Your Current Reigning Champion, it’s THRASHER The EXECUTIONER!!!!”

The crowd erupts and fireworks spark around the entrance. 

“THRASHER! THRASHER! THRASHER!”

Spotlights meet to a large frame looming from the shadows. Chrome cast metal gleams from their body as they emerge. Each stomp of their metal feet trembles the dusty earth. An arm punches out with a large chainsaw attached. It swings above their head and sparks fly as it grinds to a spin, ready to obliterate everything in it’s path. The Executioner roars and the crowd goes wild.

The brassy beat cuts off and switches to an intense electric guitar intro. Some people gasp already recognising the tune. Other people are on edge knowing or hoping what heavy metal could mean.

Walker spins on his feet with practised ease and points to the other side. He takes a deep breath, “And in the blue corner, coming in at five feet, ten inches, one-hundred and seventy six pounds, but don’t let that fool ya, he’s the Destroyer of Metal Muscle, THE current holder of the most GORY Take Down in Cage Wars history, four years undefeated, a.k.a., The KING of ALL that is Glory, that’s right, you guessed it and WE have it. He’s back. Back in Service. To Assert his Domation. It’s the One. The Only. Billy. The. BEAST!!!!”

The stadium bursts into a deafening roar. The walls and foundations are thundering from the excitement. The ground vibrates around him pulling him forwards to his imminent death. The humanoid machine of terror stares across from him, stompers beating the ground heavy, ready to charge.

“BEAST! BEAST! BEAST! BEAST!” the crowd chants, beer and spit fly airborne through the stadium. Monitors hanging from the ceiling and mounted on walls switch to a moving image of himself he does not recognise. A shiny brand new gladiator ready for battle making poses he doesn’t remember performing.

Confetti and fireworks explode left and right and his ears ring. Nausea hits him, axis tilting, his head wants to meet the ground, only his commands keep him upright.

_“Run Billy, Run!”_

Billy twitches and shakes his head as he hears a girls voice. Images flicker across his cognition, axis off center again, world tilting again.

_His vision whites._

_A Blast. Smoke, peppering of debris._

_His ears stop ringing and there's gun fire._

_A girl. Too young. Face full of freckles. She is screaming at him._

_“We have to go!”_

_Her hands grab his - pulling._

_They’re running. Feet slip in shallow dirt and sand._

_Gun shots ring out._

_They duck and cover. A car door gets sprayed with holes under fire._

_“Run!”_

_To where?_

_Red hair blows in the wind._

_The highway is never ending._

_Blue car. Red lights._

_“Billy! Run! Run! Run!”_

_Explosions ring out, ears piercing._

  


The gate flies open and the spotlights swing onto him.

  


_Caught in the cross-hair._

_Bang! Bang!_

_He reloads, shoots back._

_Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!_

_His body jolts._

_A stray bullet hits him._

_Train tracks. Sad eyes._

_“Come find me.”_

He hears it. Clear as day, but he can’t place it.

_Soft kisses._

  


A loud bell rings out and a horn blows. The ground shakes and Billy’s attention zeroes in on the behemoth charging towards him.

Everything is forgotten.

All except for:

_“Run, Billy! Run! Run! Run!”_

His feet kick off and he runs.

His body moves on instinct, his lungs expand and he leaps.

Sword in hand, he aims and releases the loudest guttural war cry he’s ever heard.

The air catches and the world slows to a standstill - the Jaws of Death converge to a point of no return.

  


* * *

  


“We can’t go without him!”

Dustin hadn’t stopped chucking a tantrum and Hopper dragged him into a secluded corner to give him a talking to.

“Dustin, if you don’t shut up, I will,” he clenches his fists in frustration. The other boys have long tried to calm him down but nothing was helping. Steve had refused too, citing Dustin’s own safety, “Droid are droids and you know as well as anyone here we can not bring him with us. There are real lives at stake here. Not just yours. What about Joyce. Her son Will, Jonathan. El. - Mike and Lucas are meeting their family too.”

“Yeah, and what about Steve.”

“Steve too. I can fake his passport, but I can’t do Billy’s. We don’t have his papers, and we wouldn’t even know where he is.”

“Well who’s fault is that?! We should have gone after them straight away.” 

They were on the last step of their plan. A plan that Hop and all the adults made without them. The planes have already been booked and Canada is waiting. He’s even received a message from Suzie that her and her family had arrived at Quebec the previous day.

“I can’t deal with this any more,” grumbled Hopper as he palmed his face.

“Honey,” said Joyce, “Suzie is waiting for you.”

“I know, and I’ll get there, but just, not yet. I never leave a friend behind.”

"Oh Dustin, Droids, c-"

“Dustin!” Mike and Will round the cornerr, “Something’s wrong with Steve.”

He runs after them and find Steve in the waiting room resting limp against a pillar.

“What’s wrong?” Dustin shakes his shoulder, “Steve?” Steve’s head lolls to the side, “Shit, I thought I put in a new battery this morning.”

“Well, can’t we just charge him directly?” Lucas points to a nearby socket, “It would be faster.”

“Not here, people will see,” said Dustin.

“Then what?!”

“Shh…,” scolded two old women for disturbing them from watching the news.

Dustin studies what he can as the boys block the view from the public. “There’s something wrong. Something is sucking up all the energy. I don’t get it.”

Lucas holds up his jacket, “Why don’t we just move him to the socket and we cover up the cords so no one can see.”

They all nod and the kids grab Steve around his torso, curl his arms over their shoulders and lift him up, dragging him closer to the wall

“Young people these days,” the old women tut, “Always drunk.”

Mike hears a small voice and turns.

“El?”

“Billy,” she points to the television in the waiting room. 

Mike drops Steve in surprise Steve’s weight pulls the rest of the guys down.

“Mike!” says Dustin.

“No, look, it’s Billy!”

All their heads snap to the tv and sure enough, there he is - on the sports section. He looks different and the the sport anchors are spouting about some kind of surprise tournament match.

“Holy shit.”

  


* * *

  


The kids cause a diversion that may or may not have involved concoction of reactive solutions in a toilet bowl. They escape the adults but unfortunately had to leave Steve behind to charge.

“We’ll be right back buddy,” said Dustin slapping hat over his big hair. “Don’t go anywhere till we get back.”

They made sure to leave strict instructions with Joyce. Joyce they could trust. Hopper not so much. It didn’t take long to reach the main square and they ran to an information board looking for the directories.

“Where on earth is the Jaws of Death,” said Dustin as he scours a large digital map, fingers pinching in and out as he zooms.

Lucas pushes Dustin’s hands away, “Just - search it,” and he takes over, typing quickly.

“There!” points Mike, “Basement level three. Let’s go!”

They run towards the main elevators and find themselves following a large crowd. They make it a line of ticket stalls.

“Shit, I don’t have any money.”

They all check their pockets and hoping some cash came with the disguises. Mike looks around, the crowd is filtering through five ticketing stalls slowly. Most of the people have paint across their faces and are sporting colourful team crests on their backs.

“We can fit in and pretend to be someone’s kids,” says Mike.

Will takes out a pack of colour pencils from his back pack, and Lucas grabs it and puts it back in, “I don’t know about you, but color pencils on the face would be very painful.”

“Well I was looking for textas,” says Will.

“No,” says El. Her hands spark with electricity and their eyes bug out as they jump in front of her.

“No! Not in front of people!”

But it was too late, a lick of electricity caught hold of some nearby wires. Lights blow up above them and the system surges, frying all the ticketing stalls till they’re out of order. The orderly crowd scream and shout and it turns into a free for all.

They look at each other, dumbfounded at how simple that was.

“Hurry up!” says El.

She’s already on the other side.

Dustin catches up and makes sure to thank her. 

She shakes her head instead, “Running out of time.”

The way she says it stumps him for a second. But then again, it’s El, and the world is too busy and noisy. They have to move on so he does. He looks between the sea of people, making sure they’re altogether. For once, he’s internally thankful they’re all wearing these god awful school uniforms. It makes it easier to see where everyone is and make sure no one’s gotten themselves lost. They follow the crowd through multiple doors and tunnels and finally reach the stadium.

It opens out to a wide arena lined in a tall fence. There’s Billy. A tiny dot up against a much larger dot. From the looks of it he’s not doing well. Regardless, they’re too high up to see or do much of anything!

“We have to get him out of there!” Dustin shouts over the noise.

“How?!” says Lucas, “How do we even get down there?!”

“There must be another door!” Mike climbs down the side stairs for a better view. People are jeering, chucking peanuts at him for getting in their way.

“Down there!” Will shouts. He’s pointing to an entrance slightly closer to the lower arena. “It says the number. We go there!”

They run back through the exit and search the door numbers. There are tonnes of people moving but there’s also a lot of and security. They spot the nearest flight of stairs and take it.

  


* * *

  


The first clash sent shock waves through Billy’s arm and body, and he barely scraping away from the giant chainsaw swooping across the air.

He landed with a roll, trying to release the energy, but two spinning discs shoot from the Executioner’s chest, one slicing his arm and the other lodged into his chest cavity.

Billy was light on his feet. 

His opponent was slow, but he made up for it with his reach. He dodged a few deadly swoops and managed to stab viciously at exposed tubing and hydraulic lines. Some were minor, one was a major hit. The fuel line was a fake.

Thump.

He’s left his nine o’clock open and received a heavy blow for his troubles. He scrambles away glad it was the other arm and not the chainsaw but it leaves him reeling.

A bell dings twice and the other droid returns to their corner. Billy’s feet move without him to to the blue side.

There’s an angry man shouting as he returns, spit spraying from his mouth, a ropey glob hangs from thick, wiry hairs of his moustache. It flies back and forth with each syllable. Different people are welding and fusing any damages shut. It stings but he bears the pain for necessity’s sake.

DING DING

It takes three more rounds before the chainsaw clips him good. He loses more than a hand and he’s down, landing wrong in the dirt. The ref stops the Thrasher before they could finish him off. A hand hits the ground and the ref counts with his fingers in front of Billy’s face. 

“1, 2, 3, 4 -”

Billy’s motors whirr and burr. He gets up on shaky legs before the count of five but is knocked back down.

Thrasher earns a yellow card and they take a break before round five.

A blow torch burns blistering blue at the end of his broken arm. It rattles from the fire and heat, he can hear metal bending. A knife is welded in stead of his hand. It does nothing but jut out as a terrible extension. More a long dagger than a knife and he does a few test jabs. His combat protocol accepts the new appendage, feet bouncing side to side re-distributing the weight.

The bell rings, ‘DING DING DING,’ and he’s back in.

  


* * *

####  `SEQUENCE 14: INT. THE TERMINAL`

Neil left Chad in charge of escorting the clients. When the infamous Mad Max upped and left, their boss sent half the crew to chase after her. Can’t harm a single hair on her head though. If any of them guys did what she did they would have been shot on the spot.

Trent chewed on a broken fingernail. The little brat got away with everything. She got to roam around and pick up contracts like she owned the place. Having your mum fuck the head honcho gets you everywhere he guesses.

That left poor simple Chad in charge of handling the family of rugrats, making sure that they got onto their flight out. It was a simple task - for most people. Seemed like even Chad managed to screw things up. Trent watched Chad drop his muffin on the floor, pick it up and take a large bite.

“Chad, my man. What’s going on?”

“Oh thank god you’re here. Something blew up and they’ve-” he waves his arms meaning the paying clients he was babysitting, “-gone all over the place.”

“Don’t worry man,” Trent gives him a pat on the shoulder. “I’ll help you out. How about, I take over. You just relax man.”

“Really? The boss knows I’m in charge though,” he said, mid chew. Trent could see lint rolling around in his mouth. Chad stuck his fingers in and pulled out a hair with a grimace.

“Yeah, he told me to come over and check on ‘em. Besides the match just started, you might as well go check it out. The clients are probably on there way there with all the commotion Boss Man’s drummed up.”

“Well, sure, I don’t see why not. Hey, you think The Beast is going to be any good with all the time that’s passed.”

Trent shrugged, “Four years man,“ it wasn’t like he cared. “I dunno, probably. Though, I can see where you’re going, techs gone a long way since then.”

“Yeah,” Chad ducked and hunched his shoulders, a nervous tick he always did that Trent hated, “Maybe, maybe he just wants to break him in, punish ‘im or some what.”

“Pfft - punish, like how, they don’t have any feelings. It’s gonna be a show - win or lose. You know how it is. Boss gets paid regardless, a little more if he wins. Tournament number one is jack pot.” Trent thinks on it a bit, “You now what, now he’s got his prized horse back, maybe you’re right. Probs just wants to see what he can do - compared to today’s fighters that is.”

“I don’t see the rush. Could’ve done some upgrades at least. Tanker ain’t that bad a bot. He’s been doing alright.”

Tanker’s about fifty, fifty, was what Trent wanted to say. It was universal knowledge he ranked subpar, but instead goes for, “You know him, always got a plan.”

Chad nodded along like he knew what Trent was on about, “Ain’t that right. Well,” he finishes off his muffin, sucking his dirty fingers, “thanks for the help there dude.” Chad gave Trent a bro side hug, “I’ll see you on the way back a’ight.”

“You know it.”

Trent schooled his face as Chad left his post. Once he was gone, he made his way to the man sleeping against a wall, hidden from all the commotion. Other people would assume he was just waiting for his flight.

“Hello doll face. It’s been a while.”

  


* * *

  


The crowd jeers and the closest of the hoard of people spit in his direction. Oily black and amber emulsion expel from Billy’s mouth and he wipes it with his good hand.

“- the Beast takes another tumble and the round ends in a draw. We’ll be taking a short break with today’s half time show. Please give your warmest welcome to the lovely ladies in white, Bella and the Beauts!”

Commentators are speculating on the sidelines, “has the former king lost his touch?”, “will he or won’t he be able to compete with this years new advanced tech gear?” 

“We do know the Beast loves a berserker finish, ain’t that right Dick. Always clenches that win in the last minute. I don’t know about you but I’m getting a bit nostalgic. If memory serves, we’re going to get a good one.”

“Or a gruelling one. Thrasher’s been off his game. He has been having difficulties finishing this off as fast as he would like. What was his record, ten minutes?”

“Nine point eight nine.”

“Getting technical to a ‘T’ there Brad. Nine point eight nine, still a good time.”

“We have to remember that we have two champions battling it out head to head. This only happens once in a blue moon. Thrasher seems to be struggling just as much as Billy has.”

“Well, not for the lack of trying. Billy has been giving him the run around. And more on running-”

“Running out of steam you mean,” and they both release a chuckle.

“Good one Brad. Yes, running out of steam and running out of ammunition! Rules are rules, only three modifications allowed in a match, that includes repairs and reloading for any new listeners out there. Red team’s already used up their two so they have one left. However, you never know what they’ve got up their sleeves, and that’s the good thing about Cage Wars, it’s always a surprise.”

“That’s right, when it comes to tech, if you can build it, and it meets regulations of course, it’s in. And especially with the Executioner’s team, the history of what they’ve been able to pull out of a hat they’re always one to reward the audience.”

“Yes, they are a pleasure to watch. It is a gamble however, this early on in the tournament? Do you reveal your cards now, or is it a risk not to? This is round robin so they _will_ have another chance to fight for one of the top three spots for the final.”

“That if they don’t get damaged too much before then. Substitutions are illegal, and Rule 2075 states no more than sixy percent of a bot can be substituted, so builders need to keep this in mind when modifying or repairing their bot. And you never know, Thrasher may have something else saved up for later. Why not use your hat trick and save yourself now. Especially if you’re up against The Beast.”

“You’re right. The Beast. We all know his reputation. The King of all that is Glory. What a title.”

“Yes, what a title.”

“Coming ad break we’ll play his many hits from his four year reign. But as we go through them, note how devastating he takes down his opponents.”

“That’s right. Second year of his title, fastest season victory we’ve ever seen.”

“Ever seen. When he takes them down, they go down hard.”

“Absolutely destroyed. More than sixty percent.”

“That’s the magic number.”

“The magic number. And a lot of the Champions that follow his stead have been replicating his tactics. Of course with their own individual flair.”

“That’s right Dick, these bots, I love them, and they’ve been getting, bigger, badder and better, but I admit they don’t compare. I miss Billy’s berserker side. Absolutely ferocious.”

“Wild, untamed. Just beautiful to watch.”

“It’s not just sparks and flames, you get guts and glory. It’s the good stuff. Nothing compares. You’ll know when you see it. If you’re new to Cage Wars, this is a fight you cannot miss.”

“That’s right. And this just goes to show how much Thrasher will need to adapt for a close combat strategy if they want to pull through, because once the Beast gets up in there. Game over. And I believe that has been the Beast’s strategy all along.”

“No doubt, no doubt. And it is no secret that The Executioner’s strength lies range combat. He deals that Devastating blow without their opponent even stepping an inch close to them. No one’s been able to escape that so far.”

“Exactly, if the Beast wants to win this one and prove they’ve still got it, they will need to finish the Thrasher sooner rather than lather. And I mean soon before Thrasher ups their anti with their close combat offence or defence with their next mod.”

“And I’m excited to find out what it is. But you know, that mighty chainsaw, it hasn’t let him down yet. It’s been a major factor in his winning streak for what, this past season.”

“Actually Brad, I would say the whole season and the end of the last remember; brought it in on that finale with Two Face but didn’t use it. Didn’t use it?!”

“What a shame. Those sparks flying in that signature arc; money shot every time. Absolute crowd pleaser. Would love to see an ending like that tonight.”

  


* * *

  


“Stop Pussy Footing around out there ya hunk of metal?! Is that all you got?! Killing Machine My ASS!”

The man or “coach” hadn’t stop yelling in the Billy’s face since the beginning. Has barely riled him up at all. A permanent scowl sat on the droid staring dead forward at his opponent. It looks great on camera. A throw back to the good old days of coaches pumping up their boxers in the ring. Every team does it even though they’re basically dancing in front of a robot that will never respond.

The coach is finally cuts themselves off half way and quietly steps aside. A man with the crew cut, the one they call Neil or boss, steps in, plants himself up close and personal into Billy’s face.

Neil’s moustache twitches. There’s a reason why The Beast makes him a lot of money. It’s why people would pay a fortune to buy him. And it’s the same reason why he near pissed himself, tore up the whole country looking for him when he’d run off.

He stared the droid down, refusing to be the first one to blink. What a fool’s game. Shoulder’s high, back ram rod straight. He was a military man, and he was damn well going to win any fight he came across.

“Enjoying our little reunion?” Neil spoke under his breath. “You should show some appreciation. You know. Responsibility. Respect.”

The droid’s face barely moved and Neil made sure to grab his hand around the droid’s neck in almost a hug way, for the cameras. The threat to Billy was more than implied. If he was in there.

“Not that a rust bucket like you would know. So you’ve had your fun. Gone off and enjoyed yourself. Getting dicked down I presume like you’re getting dicked down out there!” he spat in the droid’s face, “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

The droid barely flinched from the glob that landed on his nose.

“You know, nothing gets past me. Nothing. I own every stinking little piece of shit of you that makes you, you. It’s MY responsibility that you - You and your -tendencies. You made you the way you are. You are my responsibility because I’m a man. You wouldn’t know what that means. Never have. You were an embarrassment and I made you better. I own you. Every dust you breathe, every shit you take, it belongs to me. I know every little thing you do. And you know what I’ve learned? You’re forgetting your place. Getting chummy with people and children. Pretending to be one of us.”

Neil seethed in disgust. It did nothing but rile himself up.

“Well you’re not and don’t you forget that. You are weak. You were never a man then and now you’re not even a man now, look at you. And those friend’s of yours? They’re gone, outta the country. I have eyes and ears everywhere and each time you lose. I promise. I kill ‘em. One by one.” 

The droid’s lips twitch into a snarl and Neil smirked watching whatever barrier’s Billy’s built up break down just a bit.

“That’s right, Dustin, isn’t it. That’s the kid’s name. He goes first. Step outta line and another one goes,” he clicks his fingers.

This was his secret formula. He’d browsed through the droid’s memory and lamented not using his usual technique of dangling his daughter Maxine. Anything that long ago had been too damaged or erased. But he had more than enough footage to work with.

“And that toy boy you’ve got there?”

Billy’s nose flares, lungs heave and a growl escaped his lips. Neil can feel the aggression vibrating off him and a high of ecstasy shot through his veins. Pure unadulterated exhilaration of the power and control. 

“Steve,” he grinned, “isn’t it? I’ll make sure he gets something special.”

Billy’s scowl deepened, growl radiating louder, his chest jolts forward and pushes up against Neil’s, nose to nose, feet almost kicking off. Neil grins wider as Billy breaks through more of the stranglehold to stay put. The droid’s jaw moves ever so, teeth ready to snap- to slice his throat open. Fear tingles in his toes. He loves it. This time, he bends ever so to speak into his ear, “I’ll make sure he gets a whole host of something special.”

DING DING DING

Neil moves aside and Billy all but claws his way into the arena.

He rushes past like a bull terrier hungry for meat. Wild and barbaric he bulldozes right into the body of the Thrasher.

The thrasher swings his chainsaw up and over the smaller droid, catches the whirlwind of dirty hair in the chains. It sucks it in hard and fast like a wood chipper to a scrawny tree. Any other round this would win Thrasher the match. Any other round The Executioner would live up to his name. But this time, the Executioner was one round too late.

Billy roars, face snarling like he beast he is. He chops of his hair off in less than one could blink and the wiry kinks of his hair jams for a moment under chain. 

Smoking, the chains slows minutely and Billy shoves his sword in, prying it off. 

The links of spinning chain whips in the air uncontrollably.

The Thrasher gets hit in the chest and face whereas for Billy, where any sane person, or droid, would jump out of the way, but instead he jumps up onto the Thrasher’s shoulders and plunges his knife in.

For a split second they acknowledge each other. The silent acceptance of each other’s plight, but that moment is gone as he trashes at it, twisting and stabbing.

He cuts, severing anything and anything in his path.

The body beneath him twitches and sparks fly.

The chain whips around dangerously. It snags at Billy’s foot, pulling him off but he continues, choosing rather to cut his foot off than lose a match.

Murderous disks shoot out from the Thrasher’s chest into the audience as it looses control and people scream trying to escape them. No longer trying to remove the droid from it’s shoulder’s The Thrasher stumbles and charges randomly into the walls and fences.

More screams follow, trying to get out of the way, many trapped.

Billy continues. His reputation precedes him. He’s a beast, a barbarian, stark raving mad. Unhinged, unchained. All tabloid headlines Neil quotes proudly.

Regardless of the danger he’s putting others in, regardless of the danger he’s putting himself in, he will continue no matter what. Sixty percent.

The Thrasher sways side to side, arms swinging, punching. Concrete crumble and cracks grow exponentially along the foundations beneath the stands and the crowd runs for their life.

If he’d known better, he’d know that Thrasher’s builders made sure his head was bolted on tight. If he’d known better, he’d know he would need a lot more than stabbing to remove it. If he’d known better he would know he would be crushed under the weight when Thrasher’s body would finally come tumbling down on him, but he was consumed.

Thrasher stumbled one last time, unable to hold themselves up.

Billy’s world began to tilt sideways, ground coming closer and closer, shadow looming as Thrasher’s body began to fall.

All of a sudden, lighting shot out from the side and both him and Thrasher seized in electrocution, lifting into the air and flying apart.

Billy hit the ground with a thud and shook his head unsatisfied. He wasn’t done yet. He had to win.

“BILLY!” he hears.

He gets up, knee and foot, limping towards the mass of metal on the ground. 

Step by step he makes it closer to the Thrasher.

He needs to destroy them.

He needs to win.

He needs to be the victor.

Otherwise-

His body stops in its tracks.

Hands are holding him back.

He looks down, ready to strike.

It’s a group of kids, “Billy! Stop! Please!”

They’re pulling him away. Little hands grabbing his.

_Her hands grab his - pulling. | Red Hair | Blue car._

He blinks - breathless. His body won’t move.

There’s so much energy within him. Pent up and no where for it to go.

“BILLY!” comes an angry shout. It’s Neil and Billy stiffens.

El raises her hand and zaps the man. Neil drops to the ground and she takes a while to catch her breath, “Ok, let's go.”

“Uuuhhh,” Mike spins around, “I don’t know if it’s that simple.”

People in military suits are blocking off all the exits. The kids surround Billy as El maintains her stance. She brings both her hands up.

“It’s fine, I can do it.”

  


“Eleven. my child.”

A man in a pressed suit walked though the crowd towards them. His smile gentle, crows feet crinkled at his eyes suggesting a kinder man, but El knew better. She backed up behind her friends and looked to Mike.

“Papa.”

  


* * *

####  `SEQUENCE 15: INT.`

“Beast, finish it off,” ordered Neil.

Billy’s face fell blank and he turned. Robotic in his movements, he made his way over to the droid on the ground. He bent low and stabbed the Thrasher in the chest. 

Dustin and the kids flinched at each horrible crunch.

Billy smashed the droid over and over until there was a gaping hole. With his good arm, he reached in and pulled out wires and hydraulic tubing until they snapped away, oil and fluid splattering and spilling like blood. 

“We got cameras on that? Good, and get that daft robot back in the truck,” yelled Neil. Two nervous henchmen approached Billy, hoisted him onto a truck and hauled him off. 

“Are these kids yours?!”Neil pointed to the children, “They’ve fried my droid, look at him.”

“Mr Hargrove. Dr Brenner, pleasure to meet you.”

Hargrove’s moustache twitched, “You-”

“Everything is in order. I can assure you, you, compensation will be received where compensation’s due. Frazier here will take care of you.”

An woman with silver curled hair held out a hand.

“Call me Connie.”

  


* * *

####  `FOUR YEARS AGO / INT. DINER`

Pew Pew, Pew Pew

8 bit lazers beeped from a arcade machine in the corner of a diner. It was past the dinnertime rush. Most of the patrons had emptied the booths leaving those still finishing up, the night crew and their regulars such as old Tom and smelly Joe. Smelly Joe uses their wash room during his truckers route about twice a week.

“You’re a dick-wad,” said Max. She’d turned nine a couple months back. Since she hadn’t had school in ages since the move, she only had this bozo and her mum to share it with. Neil doesn’t count.

Billy sneered, choosing to ignore her and pressed back into to the wall. The posters and specials menu crinkled where his denim jacket and buttons scratched against the old paper. He was practically hugging the mounted phone, like he was paranoid people were listening in. 

“You shouldn’t have done that. That was a bitch move.”

Billy punched the numbers in again, a little harder and rougher this time. Maybe that would do it. The quarters in his pocket jingled at each punch. It was one of those coin operated rotary phones - the one with the disks with the holes in it for each number. You’re supposed to spin in manually every time you punch a number. He normally enjoyed it when the disk would spin back on its own. Could feel the weight of the mechanisms inside when he spins the next number. It gave a satisfying whirl. However, for the mood that he was in, it was nothing but. He licked at his split lip as the phone rang on the other side.

“Since when did you swear this much,” said Billy glancing over at her and cradling the handset between his chin and shoulder, “do you even know what a dick-wad is?”

The little girl tapped expertly on the buttons feeling quite proud of herself, “Of course I do. I learned from the best. And you know who taught me, a dick-wad. You’re a dick-wad. Living proof.”

Max had become a thorn in his side since she joined the family. The new addition along with the woman that was to replace his mum. She used to be this quiet thing that observed from the sidelines. Now she’s just as abrasive as he is. Caught on quick, he thinks. To survive in this family. He can’t help with being an influence, be it a bad one. The ringing turned into a dial tone again.

“You’re pissing me off,” he slapped the cradle of the handset a few times, patience wearing thin, “go finish your food.”

Max had that determined look on her face. The one she had when she was vying for the top score, but right now, she was making too many errors. She didn’t want to eat. She didn’t want to play. But she didn’t want to think about the monster Billy had become.

Their usual booth sat empty, besides the burger, soda and fries.

Billy added a few more quarters and punched the numbers in again. It was one of those stupid coin operated retro phones where you had to spin the number plate and wait for the disk to return before getting to the next number. The ringing tone started and he shook his legs out as they were falling asleep. 

“You know, they don’t feel anything. So who cares.”

“They do to. Robin said-”

“Baskin n’ Robin doesn’t say shit, Ok! She’s just a robot that slings ice-cream for little snot noses with shits for brains. A monkey can do her job, that’s why they built her.”

Max glared at him. The second her eyes were off the screen, the game was over. The machine beeped a taunting tune and she kicked it.

Billy placed a hand over the receiver, “so what, you can kick little machines and I can’t kick a few droids?”

“It’s different, and you know it is.”

If she really wanted to know, he fucks them too. He snorted, “Just eat your fucking burger.”

He was met with the dial tone again. Quarters, disk, wait, foot tapping in irritation.

Max rolled her eyes at him and she plopped into the booth.

So what if he vents out on a few droids. It’s only once in a while. He gets pent up, so sue him. It’s not like she’s ever going to be the punching bag any time soon. Besides, no one gets hurt. What do they call it, victimless crime, but without the crime. That’s the whole point. Ask anyone; he’s getting better. Hasn’t killed a henchman in half a year.

“They come dime a dozen anyway, who gives a shit.”

“I give a shit.”

The same fuckin’ dial-tone beeped and he snapped, bashing the phone with the receiver, “Jeezus fucking! Fuck!”

He bashed the handset into it’s holder maybe a few too many times till the phone hung lopsided on the wall. They were promptly kicked out.

“Nice going arsehole.”

“Whatever dip shit, I’m dropping you off.”

  


* * *

####  `PRESENT DAY / INT.`

Neil and his gang left the arena and military personnel surrounded the kids with their massive guns and excessive armour. It was over the top.

Brenner’s smiling face turned back to El.

“Eleven,” he held his arms out wide, “my prodigal child. You’ve returned.”

“No,” he held out her hand and zapped at a few people, but the electricity singed and nothing happened, discharging on contact.

Mike stepped in front of her, “Go away! Let us go.”

Connie, pulled out her gun, “If you know what’s best for you, you’d better do as you’re told.”

“Come now children,” said Brenner, “You must be hungry. Come with us.”

The kids looked around for any last opportunities for escape. The droid that was laid out from Billy’s destruction was already hauled off. Black oil splatter marked the ground with streaks lined off to an exit. It reminded Dustin that Billy was gone, he’d found his owner and this was what he does. He was a fighting and killing machine made up of different parts.

The children were all lead through the buildings and entered a glass elevator. As it rose, the lights of the city bloomed from outside. Glass windows reflected video advertisements and blinking signage from all directions. The elevator continue to rocket higher into the sky.

They all brace themselves as it slowed to a stop, nausea woozed up their throats.

The doors opened into a pristine white lab. Scientists in lab coats and hazmat suits puttered around in sectioned off areas.

“Eleven, we didn’t expect you to return during this stage, but we understand children can be curious. Especially the intelligent ones.”

El followed the man with caution. With Mike and her new friends by her side, she had to protect them.

“Do you want to know where you came from?”

They walked past giant glass tubes of liquid. The grey slimy monsters that attacked them in the junk yard bobbed about suspended in the solution.

A thunk came from one of the tubes and Will rushed closer to the group bumping into Lucas. 

“It moved,” he said.

“Oh course they move,” said Lucas. Bubbles released from tubing and wires around the monsters “They’re being kept alive.”

“Life support,” gasped Dustin but less in fear and more in curiosity.

Dr Brenner cleared his throat, “My dear Eleven. You must learn, a city is a social agreement. On how we live together,” he continues to guide the children through the laboratory. Security very close behind.

Multiple vats lined each testing area. They were full of monsters of different shapes and sizes. As they continued, they become progressively stranger and uglier. Extra limbs, multiple growths of tumours, conjoined.

“There is this question of the form of the city, the material and the process on how we feed ourselves, how we produce our energy; this is fundamental. This one is very interesting,” he interrupted himself. 

Mike, Lucas and Will froze in recognition. A large tank housed a continuously undulating mass of meat, bones and thorns. Too big for it’s tank, it shifted between shapes trying to escape at the edges and corners, feeling for weak points with claws and half formed fingers.

All of a sudden a teethed claw smacked the glass and they jumped. Dr Brenner didn’t move an inch, instead the wrinkles of his crows feet creased in delight.

“We are as self-sufficient as possible. And we’ve applied this to the city in a massive way,” he looked out a window to the city below, “By living here we have discovered this raw material. And we have machines to induce transformation.-”

A scientist wearing a hazmat suit inserted a canister into a porthole of the monster vat. They turned the canister ‘till it clicked and opened the hatch. A long needed was plunged into the monster and it curled in on itself in discomfort. Next, the scientist suctioned out a sample and detached the canister. It was promptly handed off to another scientist in a hazmat suit.

“We have the designers, and the tools to produce our inventions.”

The canister, now a giant needle was brought over to an engineering station, all steel and metal surfaces. A skeleton of a droid sat inside a reinforced mesh and plastic container. The scientist plunged the syringe into a an injection point at the base of the neck, then promptly exited the container, door clicking behind themselves. The syringe emptied itself before falling off.

The skeleton began to shake. Red meaty goop started to expel from the crevices. The jaw dropped open and the monster meat spewed out, falling onto it’s chest and body, crawling. It twitched, grew and clambered on anything it could reach, filling in every part it could, building muscles and tendons. It wasn’t like it wasn’t dripping everywhere, and it started to get up.

“Here they are testing different compositions and their mixing with other materials.”

The droid mix monster was having difficulty getting up off the floor. The meat move down to the extremities, to the palms and the feet for more grip. It lurched towards them, trying to catch itself.

D Brenner nodded to the scientist in the hazmat suit, “Good work, keep going.”

As they turn to the next section, the droid collapsed and spazzed out. The scientist shook their head, jotted down their findings in a notebook and

They reach the last section.

“Here, they are designing drones to drop seeds. Imagine growing our creations on site, roaming and repopulating the world outside, readying it for society.”

Different drones were being built and tested on in an airspace. There was also rows and rows of capsules undergoing rigorous treatment.

“They’re also testing the composite materials which would work best for drop ship and decomposition.”

Brenner turned back to El, “Do you understand the part you play in society?” she frowned at him, “You are our first and most successful replicant. You, Eleven, were not born of metal or of microchips but of nano bio-technologies. You are completely organic in origin. You have the most harmonious marrying of android technology and biotechnology. The benefits of both worlds and without the defects. You are more than a droid, and so much more than an imitation cyborg. You were born here. The world outside is harsh and cruel, but you Eleven, are the key to the survival of all human kind. Don’t you want that? Do you want to save the humans, save your friends?”

  


* * *

####  `FOUR YEARS AGO / EXT. NIGHT CLUB`

Billy finished his cigarette, stamped it out on the wet pavement and went back inside. The day had been shit since the get go and he was hoping to end it in a high at his favourite night club. 

He’d already took a few shots before arriving. Carried a flask around with him for whenever the moment arises. The club was hot and steamy as he entered, enjoyed the view of gogo boys gyrating from the platforms above. He winded through the dance floor, between grinding men until he reached the bar. Billy slammed the bar top.

“I’ll have my usual.” He shouted over the noise.

He bartender nodded. His favourite bartender was working today, knows what he likes, especially when he was sloshed. A cool glass met his palm and he gulped it down in one go feeling the burn down his throat.

On a good night, he’d normally get back onto the dance floor. Get lost in himself and find someone to make out with, maybe get a good fuck somewhere dark. He tapped his finger against the counter and licked his lip. Nup, he needed a bit more liquid courage.

The bartender filled his glass again and he swallowed it down, enjoying the clink of the class as it hit the table. He motioned for another. That was the only good thing Neil taught him. Stick with vodka and you’ll be good to go in the morning. As in, no hang over.

He surveyed the room, waiting for someone to strike his fancy. Still nothing, he motioned the bartender for another and he took it down easy.

This time, a guy with big hair stood out above the rest. Not many people can pull a quaff so naturally. And to be standing in the corner, looking pretty and alone, what a shame. Billy swaggered his way there. He adjusted his shirt, making sure chest and abs were on display. They’ve never failed him yet.

“So, what’s a pretty boy like you doing here all by themselves?”

The guy scoffed and turned away, hands in his pockets, but that wasn’t going to turn Billy off so he decided to settle in. Leaned against the wall and placed his drink on the bar table.

“Listen, I’m not interested.”

Billy took out a cigarette, giving it a light, “never said you were.”

“You can’t smoke in here.”

“No one is telling me not to.”

“Well, I am,” the guy plucks the cigarette from Billy’s fingers, stubs it against the table and hands it back to him.

“Whatever,” Billy slides it behind his ear, “you’re kinda ruining the vibes here, you gotta chill, dude. You wanna drink? How about I buy you a drink.”

“Not drinking,” said the guy, but Billy already motioned the bartender, leaning over the counter and asked for a beer. Make it Two beers.

“No seriously, I’m not drinking.”

“Designated driver? Rough man, I’ve been there. Doesn’t stop me though,” Billy takes a gulp of his beer. He’s beginning to forget about his bruises. He likes beer, and he’s broken the cardinal rule he realises. But it’s worth it, for this guy? Now he’s just got to convince him to come home with him. Maybe it was the beer goggles, but cute guy was looking hotter and hotter as each minute passed.

“Come on,” up close his eyes were so big, “how ‘bout a dance then.”

Before the guy could roll his eyes, the beautiful face was replaced with an ugly man, red and blotchy, “Hey, fuck off, off my droid!”

The man wobbled on his feet and pushed Billy.

“Droid?” Billy stumbled, grabbing at least one of his drinks and taking another drink, “The fuck you bring a droid to a club for? What, to wipe your cum for you when you finish?”

The man sputtered something but all Billy saw was the punch coming towards him. Oh it was on, Billy dodged it easily and charged, grappling his opponent around their center, toppling them both over the bar table.

Drink spilled, glass shattered, they fell to the side and Billy knocked himself on the head — but not before giving the guy a few good kicks. Fuck, he was too drunk for this, he got back up on shaky legs. He’d normally win this fight easy, but he’d started his night too heavy on the vodka and he was already a goner.

It was suffice to say, he didn’t lose, and he didn’t win. Regardless, he’s had a shitty day and now a shitty night. He kicked off his shoes in the apartment, deciding to get straight into bed.

The lights flooded on and Billy squinted against it, “What the fu-”

“Billy,” jeeze, he hated that voice, “What did I say about respect and responsibility?”

Oh god, he was really too drunk for this.

“Get him boys.”

Billy fought against the arms that were grabbing him and dragging him out the door. He gave a few good punches, or so he thought, but his inebriated self got the better of him.

“- I feed you, I clothe you, I provide for you. I gave you opportunities and this is how you repay me?! You’re an embarrassment to this family.”

Billy was disorientated, how much time had passed? This wasn’t his apartment. The stench of iron and oil hit his nostrils. His head lolled to the side and he peered through sluggish eyelids. The place was familiar. Chains hung from the rigging and wheel hubs decorated the walls. Fuck, he was at the workshop. He tried to wipe the blood off his face, but his arms refused to move. So did his legs. He looked down, his torso too. He was strapped in a metal chair head to toe and confusion overtook him.

“I have been building a reputation for us and you’ve been a fucking in fag bars all this time?! You forget you represent this family, represent me! You forget you belong to me!” Neil shook his head, “I can only blame myself for not being a better role model, but there’s something wrong with you. You will never change. I’ve told you a thousand times, if you can’t be a man, I’ll do it for you.”

Metal screeched at his left ear, and the heat of a flame burned on his right. He willed his body to move as fire glinted in his eyes. The circular saw whirled to life in short bursts and panic filled Billy’s body. 

“Neil,” Billy shook violently against the restraints, “Dad! You can’t do this! Don’t do this!”

“Billy, Billy, Billy. My son. You will always be my son. You know, the new bots coming in are composites. They get them from China. Russia. Cyborgs are the best, brawns and brains. They should be sweeping the tournaments but they’re not. We deserve the best, but no one can figure out how to use them.”

Neil squats down in front of Billy till they’re eye level while the henchmen line their tools, “but I know what’s wrong. Commie made bullshit won’t get you far. That’s not how you make a killing machine. They don’t know that America is the best. That American makes the best. We can’t be beat, and you’re going to prove it.”

One of the henchmen lined up a metal arm alongside his, then a leg.

“Fuck!” Billy shook harder, but nothing was budging, “Fuck! Get that away from me. You can’t do this! Neil, listen, I’ll do anything, just-”

Neil snapped his fingers and one of the henchmen stuffed a mouth guard into Billy’s mouth, and tied it around his head. Billy tried to shake it off, spit it out, wiggle, anything.

“You can’t deny, you’re my best fighter. You’re going to be a better man after this. Trust me boy. You’ll be someone our family will finally be proud of.”

Neil gave the men the go ahead with a nod and the saws came to life.

His eyes watered as they descended. Skin sheering, tearing jaggard and fire burned across his shoulders.

He screamed through the thick plastic as pain wracked his body, muscles stiffened and whipped off as they were cut away. 

The saw kept going till it hit the slow grind of bone.

Tears stained his cheeks, he screamed.

No longer begging for help, no longer cursing his terrible luck to be in such a family, he screamed only for the pain.

Screamed only for it to be over.

Screamed, clenched his fingers, and toes, bit down hard, anything to ignore the agony.

Screamed.

Screamed.

SCREAMED.

  


* * *

####  `PRESENT DAY`

Steve booted with a clunk, head hitting a very low, metal roof.

Optics adjusting to the dark, he felt around the cramped area. It was lined with scratchy fabric on plastic. He’s in a boot of a car he deduces. He’s also low on battery so he needs to make sure he conserves his energy.

He focuses on the information he’s receiving. It’s loud where he is. He can hear machinery riveting and something else happening outside. Sounds of people, but not a commotion. Something though. Maybe he could escape without being noticed. He pushes around feeling if there’s an exit through the back seats. 

Nothing.

He moves to the hood next, trying to get at the tail lights.

A muffled scream echoed though a large space, like a hanger and he froze.

It sounded horrible, like someone was being tortured. Perhaps he should escape more carefully. He listened carefully. Trying to locate people moving about but all he could concentrate on was the heavy breathing and the cries of torment.

He knows that voice. It sounded a lot like.

Recognition flooded him, but it couldn’t be.

It dawned on him, Billy.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hard to write and it was longer than I expected.
> 
> Also, I apologise I've been combining chapters to make it cleaner. The previous two might be combined into this one or together in the future depending what is more appropriate.
> 
> Again, thank you for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> Writing doesn't come easy for me and I started this before ST3 came out. Thank you so much for reading this with me, it is a pleasure to finally share my love of the fandom with others.
> 
> Check out my playlist for this story - [Come Find Me (Spotify)](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7tCOj76IirhXn7zWctUpGz?si=S-NPzOQuTDOhnUtAg59PKw)


End file.
